


(Blue) Spirited Away

by vulcanhighblood



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue Spirit Zuko (Avatar), Enemies to Friends, Episode: s01e13 The Blue Spirit, Episode: s01e19-20 The Siege of the North, Gen, Multi, Secret Identity, Spirits, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24835105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanhighblood/pseuds/vulcanhighblood
Summary: Prince Zuko wasn't able to escape the Northern Water Tribe after the disastrous conclusion to the Siege of the North. However, Aang is more than happy to invite his old pal, the Blue Spirit, to join him and his friends on the first leg of their journey to the Earth Kingdom.(An AU where Aang never learned the true identity of the Blue Spirit, Zuko is desperate, and Spirits enjoy interfering in the lives of mortals)
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 457
Kudos: 1385





	1. Loss and Losing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's in trouble.

Ice, Zuko observed distantly, made for some _real dangerous shrapnel._

He swiped at his cheek. Seeing his hand come away streaked with red wasn’t really a surprise, but he was glad the ice shards hadn’t taken out his _other_ eye, at least. So that was one thing going his way. He wasn’t going to count on it lasting, though, not with the way _his_ luck had been going. After all, it seemed like all he’d done since he got to the North Pole was lose things. He’d lost the Avatar, _again._ Lost Zhao to the _Ocean Spirit._ Lost Uncle somewhere in the city. 

Hopefully he was okay. 

Zuko wasn’t even particularly sure of his _own_ status at the moment. Still, he was alive, and trying desperately to sense flying projectiles launched from the remaining catapults of the Fire Nation’s scattered invasion forces - at least, the ones the Ocean Spirit hadn’t knocked from the ice and into the icy water. He hadn’t gotten to high enough ground to see exactly how much damage the Ocean Spirit had wrought, but the thing had been massive enough to be visible even from the streets. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to see more, not if it had been out there with the fleet, _his fleet, his people-!_

Another flaming ball of burning rags tied around a thick jar of oil sailed overhead, crashing into one of the shops ahead, the oil splattering all over the area, burning cloths setting the oil ablaze. It quickly caught, more than Zuko had expected, at least until he realized what building had been hit. A pelt shop. Plenty of flammable materials there. Pulling his eyes away from the burning wreckage, he tried to catch his breath and center himself. He wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. He couldn’t go back to the fleet - if there would even _be_ a fleet once the Ocean Spirit was done with it. Agni, that thought hurt. He didn’t really have time to dwell on it though, shrinking around a corner about two doors away from the burning pelt shop and taking a few deep breaths to center himself, spreading warmth down his limbs, trying to ward off the trembling in his hands. His breath of fire warmed him, but his hands didn’t stop shaking. Furious, Zuko gripped his head, trying to focus on what was happening _right now_. He couldn’t afford to worry about anything else. 

What was he going to do? Where should he go? How could he move at _all,_ when the city was full of Water Tribe barbarians _itching_ for a fight? He didn’t have a plan. When the day started he’d been too concerned with just _getting the Avatar._ He recognized that as folly, now. Uncle was always on him about making plans, thinking before acting, drinking tea, joining music night… He’d dismissed all that as Uncle stuff, things he couldn’t be bothered with. Besides, he didn’t need to make plans or sit around sipping hot leaf juice and contemplating the weather, much less playing that stupid Tsungi horn Uncle had picked up in one of the colony ports. He managed just fine without all that nonsense.

He, uh. Wasn’t doing so fine right now, though. So maybe Uncle had a bit of a point, at least about the plans and _thinking_ stuff. Not that he was going to _admit_ that. 

Another explosion, further off this time. What little luck he had was bound to run out soon, so Zuko needed to change tactics. He’d gone after Zhao, furious. Now, though, his anger had sputtered out, lost to the horror of watching the Admiral swallowed up by the grasping hands of the Ocean. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. The Avatar had been with the Ocean Spirit - no way was Zuko going to reach him _now,_ so that didn’t leave him the option of capturing the Avatar _._ Beyond that, if he stayed, he’d be caught. He needed to find Uncle and get _out_ before the Water Tribe’s forces managed to subdue the meager members of the Fire Nation infantry still standing.

Distracted as he was, Zuko had just enough time to feel something inside him scream _Heat! Fire! Incoming!_ and instinctively wrap himself in a shield of fire as an explosion _ripped_ through the building he’d been huddled behind. It protected him from the worst of the ice debris, fortunately, but the force sent him spinning through the air, skidding across the street of partially-melted ice, tearing his clothing and adding a few more scrapes and bruises to his collection. His rib cage protested that it hadn’t managed to heal from the _first_ cracked rib, so why had he gone and added a second? 

Breath control was so much harder with cracked ribs, Zuko thought grimly, peeling himself off the street before freezing suddenly, eyes locked on what lay before him. Staring back at him was a _mask._ A hauntingly familiar mask, blue and white with a gleeful grimace and narrowed eyes. It wasn’t the only mask lying on the ground, he realized, rising unsteadily to his feet and taking in his surroundings. This mask, along with several others, appeared to have come from the now-decimated remains of the building he’d sheltered behind, some sort of import shop. There were trinkets of jade and other semi-precious stones lying all over the street, along with several stone-carving tools, a few interesting-looking weapons, and even some fire nation odds and ends - probably from the colonies. While it’s true that the Northern Water Tribe had remained mostly isolated, that didn’t mean they had cut off all trade routes entirely. Apparently, some enterprising Earth Kingdom merchants had managed to bring their wares all the way to the capital city itself. 

Brushing himself off, watching little ice shards drop from his clothes and clatter to the uneven icy road, Zuko scowled down at the Blue Spirit’s mask. It felt… auspicious. Too auspicious. Still. He wasn’t one to refuse a gift from the spirits, especially one that gave him a chance to hide his face, since he felt it would be unwise to be discovered by _either_ side of this battle. He was, after all, presumed dead by the Fire Navy, and public enemy number one with the Avatar’s group (and by extension, the Northern Water Tribe). Glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby, he scooped up the mask and tucked it under his arm, about to find a new place to hunker down before he stopped suddenly, remembering what else he’d seen scattered among the icy remains of the import store. Weapons… if the shop had weapons, maybe he could find a sword! Spinning back around, Zuko returned to the building, avoiding patches of burning rags and splattered oil to dig through the rubble of the decimated shop. 

He was rather unsurprised to find a set of dual dao half-buried under some ice coated in burning oil. With a simple motion and a harsh breath that made his ribs twinge, he moved the fire aside and tentatively reached for the hilt of the sword, checking to make sure it wasn’t hot before scooping it up and swinging the swords around. Not the most balanced of swords, but they were certainly a better option than trying to find one of those whale-tooth scimitars he’d seen the Water Tribe barbarians carrying around. Glancing in the direction of where he could sense Agni, still below the horizon, he bowed respectfully. He knew spirit intervention when he saw it. With all the Spirit activity he’d seen tonight, he was glad that Agni had deigned to intervene on his behalf, more than a little surprised that he’d even been worth the Great Spirit’s notice in a land both inhabited by and devoted to Tui and La. 

Next, he needed new clothes. Between swimming with turtle seals, struggling through a blizzard, fighting that waterbending peasant, and chasing down Zhao, his clothes were looking a little worse for wear. Beyond that, the explosion had ripped small tears in several places, letting in the icy wind and forcing him to use his breath of fire. His ribs didn’t like that, much. He needed new clothes. 

His eyes slid to eye the shop with pelts. What were the odds…

Quite good, as it turned out, when he began digging through the rubble. He needed something that wasn’t going to stand out, so some of the bright blue clothes he found were quickly discarded, as was any badly singed clothing. A few singe marks would be fine - after an invasion, anyone was likely to be sporting a little singe here or there. But anything that had damaged the integrity of the furs would be no better than continuing to wear the shredded clothes already on his body.

He found the boots first, a sturdy hide boot that, unlike his own boots, were not still soaking wet from polar swims and waterbenders. He could use heat to dry most of his body, but the boots didn’t breathe nearly as much as the rest of his outfit, and he hadn’t exactly had much time to dry his feet, given the circumstances. He did, however, take a moment to do so as he peeled off his soggy boots, tugging on the pale white boots he’d found in his size. He said another mental prayer of thanks to Agni, and made a mental note to _definitely_ find a shrine to make a formal offering whenever he found his way back to a Fire Nation colony. _If_ he found his way back to a Fire Nation colony. That was still firmly lodged in the category of wishful thinking at the moment.

The next thing he found was a warm parka, in a pale blue, almost gray, edged with thick white fur. Good. It was a color that would help him slip through a city of ice, since it nearly mimicked the color of the material that made up the majority of the city structures. He peeled off his outer coat, burning it rather than leaving it as evidence - there was enough fire here from the catapult projectile, a few extra ashes wouldn’t be all that unusual. The parka was _much_ better than his coat. Zuko hadn’t realized how much energy he’d been using to keep warm until he wrapped himself in the soft furs. He should have found some of these earlier, he might have had a better showing in his bout with the Water Tribe girl if he hadn’t been spending so much effort on staying warm. 

The last thing he found was some blue pants, not nearly as pale as his parka, but not quite as loud as some of the colorful blues he’d sorted through. They were also warm, he noted, burning his pants as he had his shirt. He eyed his boots, wondering how much fire he’d need to burn them, considering how wet his feet had been. Still, he couldn’t exactly leave his clothes lying around. Knowing his luck, the Avatar’s friends would stumble across them and figure out that he’d changed clothes. 

If he was truly trying to blend in, he probably would have ditched the sword and mask and tried to paint his face in a mimicry of the Water Tribe warriors, to try and hide his scar. But he didn’t quite trust the paint not to wash off, and the mask and swords were far more familiar and comfortable. He had no interest in using a new weapon in the middle of a battlefield, especially if he was trying to avoid getting _wet_ in the middle of a city built of ice and full of waterways. 

Once he’d rigged up a makeshift cross-body strap to hold the sheath of the dual swords, Zuko made sure the white hood he’d been using to protect his face was adjusted properly, and tied the mask to his face, then paused. He needed gloves, but all they had here were bulky mittens. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to use his swords with them.

Then again, he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to use his swords with frostbite, either. With a sigh, he found the lightest shade of mittens he could find - a hair darker than his pants - and slipped them on. His fingers felt better, at least. Admittedly, mittens would also put a damper on his firebending, but Zuko never used his firebending when he donned the Blue Spirit mask anyway. It gave too much away. Zhao had figured him out, after all. If he was to firebend, even more people might realize the truth. As much as he hated to think it, he was somewhat relieved that the secret had gone to a watery grave with Zhao. Zuko had almost exposed himself during his escape from the Pohuai stronghold - only sheer bloody-mindedness had kept him conscious after the Yu Yan archers’ final volley had clipped his mask. The Avatar had gotten away then, too, mostly because Zuko had been fighting back the urge to vomit. Being concussed was not conducive to capturing the Avatar. Though admittedly, Zuko had yet to discover anything that _was_ conducive to capturing the Avatar. As far as he could tell, the little airbending cretin could wiggle out of literally anything. The only times he _hadn’t_ been able to was in that Fire Nation temple during the solstice, and in Pohuai Stronghold. Both times, he’d had help getting out. Both times, Zuko had failed to secure him after the escape.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko crept through the city, still not sure where to go. Where was uncle? How were they going to get out of this mess? 

As the night wore on, the explosions dwindled until finally, about an hour before sunrise was due, the last catapult was destroyed. Zuko found his way to the rooftops, though he found navigation significantly more difficult due to the numerous canals criss-crossing the city. As the sun began to rise, he watched from hidden alcoves as warriors of the Water Tribe marched captive Fire Nation infantrymen in the direction of the city center. 

So. They were taking prisoners. That was… a relief, Zuko supposed. Perhaps Uncle was among their number. Cautiously, he followed the prisoner transport, slipping from shadow to shadow as Agni finally crested the massive walls of the Northern Water Tribe’s capital city. 

* * *

Zuko was beginning to lose hope of _ever_ finding Uncle Iroh in this Agni-forsaken city of Ice and Slush. His parka was starting to lose the battle against the cold, and the fact that he hadn’t eaten in almost an entire day probably had something to do with that. Zuko had watched transport after transport of prisoners marched into what looked like a hastily constructed stockade, likely a product of several hours’ worth of work from a number of powerful waterbenders. He listened, trying to catch any information he could. One of the master waterbenders who stood at the entrance to the prison was called Master Pakku. He wasn’t especially large or imposing, had white hair, and wore a displeased look that seemed to be permanently affixed to his features. Despite his appearance, he must have been an important figure, as he was calling instructions to groups as they approached, indicating which cells firebenders would be kept, and which ones were designated for non-benders.

Uncle Iroh had been identified as a firebender in the Spirit Oasis, so if he had been captured, he would be on the firebender’s side. Which, of course, was more rigorously guarded and patrolled, because, well. City made of ice. Firebenders. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that much. Zuko was just beginning to mull over which end of the Firebender stockade would be easier to get into when he saw someone running over to Master Pakku. Curious, he edged closer to hear what was being said.

“Master Pakku,” the young man said, “The supplies you requested for your honored guest have been prepared at the eastside docks.”

Master Pakku’s face twisted a little at the word _honored guest,_ but he didn’t make any comment about it. “Good. Leave them there for a while. It’s probably best if he’s not seen making his… exit.”

Curious. Still, not especially helpful, since Zuko had been hoping the urgent news would take Master Pakku _away_ from the stockade. A reduction of waterbenders would have made infiltration so much easier. Sighing, Zuko crept around the back of the firebender side of the stockade. He was going to need to break through the wall, find Uncle Iroh, and get out, all before the guards spotted him. They seemed to be making twenty-minute loops around the stockade, so that didn’t give him much time. 

Waiting until the guards had moved past the back of the stockade, Zuko crept to the side of the icy building and pulled off one mitten, urging a soft heat to enter the ice from the palm of his hand. He pushed, breathing slowly, allowing the heat to spread until the wall was just weak enough to crumble. Then he pulled his mitten back on and drew his swords, plunging them into the ice and chopping at it, wincing at the loud noise he was making. He expected the guards to come charging back around the corner any minute, but they didn’t. It took only a few seconds to break through and then wiggle into the prison, but his heart was in his throat the entire time. Once inside, he realized he needn’t have worried so much. There was so much shouting, clanking, and movement going on in the stockade that no one could have heard his ice chipping. He shouldn’t have been surprised. They were still dragging in and processing prisoners at the front, after all.

Now, he just had to sneak through the stockade. The stockade full of waterbenders. Zuko sighed to himself. When he finally _did_ find Uncle, he just _knew_ he was going to get an earful.

Unlike his tricks he’d managed in Pohuai Stronghold, such as dousing a firebender’s flames with a bucket of water, the only real way to take down a waterbender was to get in close range, so they didn’t have flexibility. This was true for firebenders, too. The trick in both cases was being stealthy enough to _get_ close. As Zuko softly padded down the hall, listening carefully for any sign of movement, he hoped that he’d be able to bypass the waterbending guards entirely. He couldn’t imagine a situation that was _more_ unfavorably weighted in their favor. 

Creeping down the hall, Zuko found the first block of prisoners. Each cell had a small window, which Zuko peered into, looking for his Uncle. Fifty cells later, he had successfully determined that Uncle Iroh was _not_ in this block. He sighed, hearing the commotion of the next block down, obviously still in the process of being filled. Time to see just how sneaky he could be.

It wasn’t like there were any spaces to hide, really. But Zuko had realized that the halls were narrow. Just narrow enough to brace his arms and legs against and scramble _up._ So that’s what he did, holding himself overhead until the guards finished shoving the prisoners in their cells. 

Zuko dropped to the floor as soon as they left, _painfully_ aware that he was running out of time to find Uncle Iroh. Only about two-thirds of the cells had been filled in this side of the stockade, and Zuko had just finished checking them all when he heard a commotion - not from the front entrance, but from the other block. 

Of course. His break-in had been discovered.

Panicking, Zuko scrambled into the nearest cell. Since he wasn’t a waterbender, he couldn’t exactly shut the door, but he moved to the back corner and tore off his mitten a second time, focusing on the wall, weakening it as best he could. He hoped desperately that none of the guards would notice him chipping through the wall on his way out, but dared not hope too hard. After all, with his luck, not only would they notice, they’d be waiting for him to wriggle out and then he’d be captured, too. Beneath the panic of escape, a quieter panic was also coursing through him. _Where_ was Uncle Iroh? He had to be all right. He must have avoided capture, that’s all. Surely the Ocean Spirit wouldn’t have harmed him - he’d _helped,_ he had told Zhao to _release_ the moon! Uncle was fine. He _had_ to be. 

Wall sufficiently weakened by the heat, Zuko pulled the mitten back on and chopped at the wall with his swords again. If they hadn’t been dull before, they certainly would be by the end of this escapade, he thought wryly. 

Once he’d made a hole big enough, he cautiously poked his head through. There was a large group of guards inspecting the hole he’d made at one end, but no one appeared to be looking his way. Unable to believe his good fortune, Zuko scrambled to exit the stockade, only to hear someone shout, “Hey you! Stop!” 

He hadn’t bothered looking in the _other_ direction. Now he saw a small group of warriors charging for him. He was still halfway enclosed in a _wall of ice._ None of them were waterbenders, or he’d already be stuck. Panicked, Zuko tore himself out of the wall and started _running._ He didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t _care._ He had to get away, had to move before Master Pakku or one of the other benders saw him and trapped him, he was on _ice,_ there was nowhere to run without water!

Zuko made it to the outskirts of the stockade and charged back into the city. He saw the canal looming before him, but the bridge was several streets down. He didn’t have a choice, he couldn’t _stop,_ couldn’t waste that time. Instead, he poured on the speed, charging headlong for the canal, launching himself into the air as he reached the edge. He nearly made it, scrabbling at the edge of the canal with mittened hands - _no firebending, no fire, no way to make handholds -_ before sliding into the icy water. He wasn’t in there long, gripping the edge once more and pulling himself up to the ledge, hearing the pounding footsteps of approaching warriors. No, _no!_ If they caught him here - !

With a burst of adrenaline, Zuko tore himself out of the canal, rolling to his feet. His clothes were heavy with water and he was _freezing_ now, every inch of him soaked. It didn’t matter. He ran, slipping on the ice as water dripped from his clothes. He kept running, and running, and running, until finally he didn’t hear or see anyone else around. Judging by the scattered rubble surrounding him, he’d somehow found his way into another section of the city that had been damaged by catapults. Stumbling into the first standing building he could find, Zuko began peeling off his wet clothes, teeth chattering. Fortunately, there appeared to be a fireplace, with some wood stacked beside it and several cozy-looking pelts arranged on the floor around it. It seemed like someone’s house, which was good, because there were also some posts to hang up his soaking clothes and allow them to dry by the fireplace. 

Zuko wrung out as much water from the parka and pants as he could, then did the same with his mittens and boots. Finally, he arranged the logs and started a small fire in the hut's fire pit. He worried about the smoke, and hoped that anyone looking would assume it was just smolders from the previous night’s attack.

Next, he needed food. After digging around a bit, he found some hard dried meat that tasted tolerable, and some incredibly fishy-tasting pickled fruits. Probably sea-prunes, though Zuko had never eaten them before, he’d heard of them. They weren’t bad, though admittedly he was so hungry he couldn’t have cared _what_ they tasted like. Between the jerky and the sea prunes, Zuko managed a meager meal before wrapping himself up in one of the furs by the fire, and _finally_ drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, one and all, to my first ATLA fanfic. I've been tossing around a few ideas for years, but never got around to writing any. But everything changed when this story idea attacked (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I had to!)...  
> In all honesty though, I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing it, anyway. Thanks for making it through the first chaper! 
> 
> Personally, I have always LOVED the Blue Spirit, and always wanted to see more of Zuko's Blue Spirit hijinks in the show. I've read a few fun AU fics where the Gaang team up with the Blue Spirit mid-season 1 (And yes, if you ask, I WILL rec them, and GLADLY, they are excellent!), and thought it might be fun to try and manufacture a team up in a different location, and see what happened. And so, this fic was born. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang has had a busy night. He's about to have a busy day, too.

It had been a long night, Aang reflected, flopping down between Sokka and Katara, who were already sitting and staring deep into the fire like it was telling them a story, or something. Now that the daylight shone overhead and the fighting was pretty much over, he’d found his way back to where he’d been staying with the two Water Tribe siblings. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He’d been conscious, within the grasp of the Ocean Spirit, but he hadn’t really controlled what was going on. It was more like he watched what was happening, locked behind a wall in his own mind, as the Ocean Spirit demanded vengeance for the wrongs done to it. 

Aang understood why it was angry - it was wrong to kill, and Zhao had killed Tui, the most important person in La’s entire life. Of course La had been upset by that. Swallowing hard, Aang stared into the fire too, and unsuccessfully tried not to think about Gyatso. It was still so hard to think about how he was _gone._ He thought he understood, at least a little bit, how sad La must have been, and why the Ocean had lashed out in pain. 

Still, he wished he hadn’t been there to see the damage it had done in its anger, not only to the Fire Nation ships, but to the city, too. La hadn’t been very careful when it swept the Fire Army away, and a lot of people’s homes and businesses had been destroyed by the same Ocean they respected and worshipped. Aang wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’d also destroyed a lot of things when he first saw Gyatso. He’d been lucky to have friends to calm him down. Maybe if he’d tried harder to be a friend to La, not as much of the city would have been destroyed...

Better not to think about that, Aang decided quickly. What’s done is done, the monks used to say. Live in the present, accept the past, and await the future. Even though he was an airbending master, he still had a hard time following those rules. Sighing, he turned to look at Sokka, whose face looked really glum. Oh yeah. He’d really _really_ liked Princess Yue. He probably missed her a lot. Aang wished there had been some other way to save the moon, but that was another one of those things he couldn’t change, and just had to accept. He hoped Sokka would be able to accept it, too.

He had a feeling Sokka didn't want to hear that, though, so he kept the thought to himself. Instead, he quietly asked the room at large, “Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know, Aang. With all the damage done to the city, I don’t think we’ll be having any more waterbending classes for awhile,” Katara said, her voice quavering slightly. 

“I guess I really meant to ask _how do we help?”_ Aang admitted after another few seconds of silence.

“We leave,” Sokka said, voice weary in a way Aang couldn't remember ever hearing before. 

That couldn’t be right, Aang thought, frowning. He was the Avatar! It was his job to help people! How could leaving _possibly_ help the Northern Water Tribe? “Why would we do that?” Aang asked, genuinely confused. Unfortunately, Sokka seemed to think he was making an inappropriate joke - which, he wasn’t!! Sure, he was a fun guy, but Aang could tell humor wouldn’t be appreciated right now! 

“Why do you _think?”_ Sokka snapped, finally lifting his eyes from the fire to _glare_ at Aang, and ooh, he looked _really_ mad. 

“Sokka!” Katara scolded him before Aang even had the chance to defend himself. 

Sokka sighed, the look in his eyes softening. “Sorry, Aang,” he said. ”It’s just… all this? It happened because we were here. And the longer we stay, the more time the Fire Nation has to regroup and try _again.”_

Aang swallowed hard. He didn’t want that to happen! Plus, he really didn’t like what he did when he went into the Avatar State. It was scary, losing control like that. He hated it. If leaving meant they had a better chance of avoiding another invasion, avoiding the Avatar State? Well, then he was all for it. 

“When do we leave?” Aang asked cheerily, trying to show his support for the idea. 

“Tomorrow, at the earliest,” Sokka answered, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he slipped into planning mode. “Appa is exhausted, and honestly, so are the rest of us. An extra day to rest won’t hurt our chances, I don’t think, and we’ll do a lot better with some rest, especially considering how much open ocean we have to cross.” 

“Plus, we need to figure out what we’re going to do about waterbending lessons before we leave,” Katara added, glancing at Aang.

Nodding to show he understood her concern, Aang voiced his own. “We should probably tell Chief Arnook that we’re leaving, then. Right?” Aang saw but chose not to comment on the twin winces from Sokka and Katara. 

“I… guess you’re right,” Sokka finally admitted, his voice dropping back down into that _tired_ sound from before. “I just have a feeling he's not going to be in the mood to talk.”

Oh yeah. Because if Sokka was sad about Princess Yue, her dad was probably pretty sad, too. “I can just go, tell him real quick that we’re leaving tomorrow, then come back here,” Aang suggested. He was tired, too, but still full of nervous energy and a desire to _help._ The Avatar State hadn’t really felt like helping. Just _angry._ So Aang was actually pretty happy to find something he _could_ do. _Him._ Not just the Avatar State.

“Thanks, Aang,” Katara said, giving him a soft smile. “That would be a big help.”

Feeling his whole body warm at the compliment, Aaang fought not to show his pleasure at her words on his face. “Thanks Katara,” he said, then popped to his feet with a light puff of air.“Well, see you in a few minutes!”

Sokka made a noise that could have been agreement, and Katara smiled again, nodding. With that, Aang eased out of the room, heading for the big hall where Chief Arnook had been the last time he’d seen him.

* * *

When Aang made it to the big room, it was a _lot_ more busy than he expected. People were shouting, waving their hands, and not really listening to each other. Chief Arnook stood in the center of the whirlwind of noise, looking as tired as Sokka had sounded. Aang almost turned around and left when he heard someone say “And somehow he cut through the wall of ice with a pair of _broadswords!”_

Whoa, that sounded _amazing!_ Curious, Aang eased his way through the crowd to get closer to the people telling the story. As he got to the front, he spotted Chief Arnook, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead the way Sokka did when someone said something dumb. “Did you at least _catch_ this masked intruder?” Chief Arnook demanded, sounding even more exasperated than he looked, which was impressive, because he looked pretty exasperated! 

Judging by the looks on the faces of the storytellers, Aang already knew the answer to that. So did Chief Arnook, because he sighed heavily. “How many firebenders escaped?”

“That’s the strangest part of the story,” one of the Water Tribe warriors said. “He didn’t let anyone out of their cells - he broke in, spent at _least_ twenty minutes in there, smashed his way out the _other_ end of the prison, and _vanished_ like a polar bear dog in a snowbank!”

“Wow!” Aang exclaimed, ”That’s amazing!” Eyes all over the room turned to him, and he suddenly got the distinct impression that he wasn’t meant to be a part of this conversation. 

Chief Arnook cleared his throat before finally saying. “Yes, well, true as that may be, it doesn’t change the fact that we need to _find_ him.”

Finally! A chance to help! Aang grinned. “Can I help? I’m _great_ at finding people! What does he look like?”

A few of the warriors tossed disbelieving glances in Aang’s direction, but Chief Arnook just nodded. “We don’t have much to work with, but we do know he was dressed in colors that blend in with the terrain, and he was wearing a blue and white mask.”

Blue and white mask? Why did that feel important? “Blue and white mask, huh?” Aang repeated slowly, trying to remember any reason why that meant something to him. After a few seconds, he gave up. It would come to him eventually. “I’ll keep an eye out!” he promised, running back to tell Katara and Sokka what he’d heard. It wasn’t until he was almost halfway back that he realized he’d never told the chief they were planning on leaving. 

“Monkeyfeathers!” Aang muttered under his breath, then glanced around. Maybe he would try and catch the guy in a blue mask. Then he could show up with the mask person Chief Arnook was looking for _and_ tell him they were leaving, all at the same time. 

Aang wasn’t sure where to look, he’d left his staff back with Sokka and Katara, and Appa was still tired, so he just picked a direction and started walking, confident that he would be able to find _some_ sort of clue, if he just looked hard enough.

* * *

It turned out that searching for a guy in a blue and white mask in a city where everything seemed to be blue and white was a lot harder than Aang had thought it would be. He’d been certain that he could find the guy in thirty minutes, an hour tops, but he was well into his second hour of searching and he still hadn’t found even a _clue!_

He was also _very_ lost. He hadn’t really had a good chance to explore before the invasion because he’d been studying waterbending most of the time, and now with the invasion over, a lot of places were still damaged. Everything looked different, and Aang was used to seeing the city from the air, anyway. Now that he thought about it, searching from the air was probably a good idea - he’d tried searching from the ground, and turned up nothing. He wanted to use his glider, which would have the double advantage of giving him a bird’s eye view of the city, and help him reorient himself so he could find his way back to Katara and Sokka. But he’d left it behind, since he hadn’t really planned on being gone all that long. Still, Aang supposed that didn't stop him from climbing on _top_ of the houses. 

Airbending to aid his scramble up to the top of a nearby house, Aang swept his gaze across the city, frowning at the damage and destruction. Several neighborhoods had been completely evacuated, because there was so much damage that any of the few houses still standing could collapse at any moment. A lot of people were staying with friends, or they’d gone to stay in temporary shelters further in the city. That’s part of why waterbending training was out - the entire arena had been turned into a staging area for families whose homes had been destroyed. And of course, the healing huts were full of people who needed healing.

All that to say, there were sections of the city that shouldn’t have anyone in them. But there was still one distinct column of smoke, rising in the distance. That struck Aang as odd, since there wasn’t much fuel for fire to still be burning, was there? So where was the fire coming from? It couldn’t be from the catapults, or there would have been _more_ smoke. For there to only be one, thick column… it had to be intentional.

Huh. If _Aang_ was a weird blue and white mask-wearing guy breaking into prisons with broadswords for fun, he probably wouldn’t stick around places where there were a lot of people. And even a few hours ago, there had still been a few scattered fires burning. In fact, there still were. For most people, the difference between smoke from scattered blazes and a specific hearth fire wasn’t immediately obvious, but Aang knew air. He knew how smoke _moved,_ how heat affected the motion of air, and that smoke was _definitely_ from hearth fire, not ‘a catapult hit some furs and now they’re burning’ fire. If Kuzon was here, he’d definitely back Aang up on that one. A twinge tugged at Aang’s chest at that thought. Kuzon _wasn’t_ here. 

Shaking his head to dislodge the uncomfortable reminder, Aang took a flying leap from the roof, aiming for the next one. If someone was really trying to stay in the houses over there, whether it was mask-guy or not, he needed to find them. The area had been evacuated for a reason, and Aang didn’t want to see anyone else get hurt.

* * *

The only thing that saved Zuko was the fact that he was a light sleeper. He heard a soft _whumf_ of something landing near the house he’d sheltered in and sprang to his feet, instantly alert. His face felt _weird,_ probably because he hadn’t bothered removing the mask before crashing, and it had pushed up against one side of his face. He barely paid attention as he shoved the parka (still half damp, that was the problem with dense furs - they took forever to _dry)_ over his head. It caught on the mask, despite the fact that he’d gone to the trouble of unbuttoning it when he hung it on the drying rack. Panic made him sloppy, he _knew_ that, but it didn’t make his fingers work any faster as he plucked at the pale furs, finally shoving his head through the top before he grabbed the pants (also damp, sigh) and then jammed his feet into the (still soggy) boots.

“Hi there!” a cheery voice called from the doorway.

Zuko _grabbed_ the swords from the ground and spun around to face -

The Avatar? Who was apparently in a chatty mood.

“I don’t know if you know this, but this whole area is supposed to be evacuated,” the Avatar was saying, “The houses could break at any minute, so it’s not really safe-” His eyes widened comically as he took in Zuko’s bedraggled, soggy appearance. “YOU!”

Instinctively, Zuko flinched, wondering if the Ocean was coming to take him next. 

“You’re the guy that saved me from that Fire Nation prison!” The airbender was pointing at him, apparently gobsmacked by his presence. 

As his heart rate returned to something slightly more normal, Zuko breathed, pointedly not connecting to the fire burning at his back. The last thing he needed right now was to look like a firebender. Still, if he had to be caught by someone, he could think of worse options than the Avatar, especially as he didn’t seem particularly inclined towards anger and posession-by-the-ocean-spirit at the moment. Considering that Zuko had been on the receiving end of an angry Avatar Spirit more than once, he mentally sent a quick prayer of thanks to Agni that he was only dealing with the flighty chatterbox version of the Spirit of the World.

He lowered his swords cautiously, considering his options. With how badly things had gone the _last time_ he’d tried to capture the Avatar, Zuko wasn’t in the mood to tempt fate. He didn’t need _another_ blizzard followed by an angry ocean to contend with, especially since he _still_ didn’t have a plan for taking the Avatar back to the Fire Nation. Though maybe he could come up with something on the fly. After all, this just seemed too convenient. How would he get the Avatar to come with him? How would he even get away from this giant block of ice these barbarians called a city?

...he could steal a ship. Maybe. 

The idea of trying to crew an entire ship himself (a Water Tribe ship, very flammable, with sails and probably requiring waterbending to reach any reasonable cruising speed) while also corralling the Avatar did not appeal to him. Take _that,_ Uncle! He could think things through. Sometimes. So that was out for the moment. It really stung, because if he _did_ have transportation, this would be the _perfect_ opportunity to capture the Avatar. No one else around, nothing around but streets and streets of abandoned city blocks, no annoying Water Tribe siblings to throw boomerangs at his head or freeze him in a block of ice…

“You’re not wearing black, though,” the airbender said, still talking, though mostly to himself as Zuko had mostly tuned him out to muse on possible capture strategies. “Why not?”

This question reeled Zuko back in, as he wasn’t sure how to explain to the idiot Avatar that black wasn’t exactly a good way to _blend into the background_ of a city made entirely of blue and white ice. 

“Is it because it’s too cold?” the kid asked, as if it were somehow impossible to make a parka from the hide of an animal with black fur.

Then again, the Air Nomads had something of a reputation. Zuko had learned this while digging for clues about the Avatar, reading old scrolls from the Earth Kingdom (because Zuko couldn’t very well access the Fire Nation libraries when he was _banished,_ could he? He had no other option but to use whatever he could get his hands on. Of course he knew the Fire Nation’s resources were better, he simply hadn’t had any other choice!).

Considering their pacifist teachings, and the absolute _ignorance_ of this airbender in particular, i t was entirely possible that the current Avatar had no _idea_ how clothes made of fur worked. To be fair, Zuko’s experience was mainly in the leather department, so he hadn’t known much about furs until his first venture into arctic waters. _He_ hadn’t had the benefit of a Water Tribe sibling duo feeding him information, though. How could the Avatar have so much access to knowledge and assistance and still be so _dumb?_

“Why aren’t you talking?” the Avatar asked, then.

With that simple question, Zuko was instantly reminded of his _incredibly precarious position._

When he’d broken into Pohuai Stronghold, he had remained silent because he hadn’t wanted to run the risk of his voice being identified by any of the soldiers. Sure, they worked for that creep Zhao, but they were still _his people,_ and he wasn’t going to force them to choose between him or Zhao. Mostly because, if previous experience was any indication, they would choose Zhao. Zuko had refused to speak because he couldn't risk giving them the chance to identify him. That the Avatar hadn’t been able to identify him either had been a bonus, sure, but Zuko hadn’t planned on maintaining the ruse any longer than it took him to hog-tie the kid and lug him back to his ship. 

Now, though, it suddenly felt _much more important_ that he not speak. He was in enemy territory. Facing the Avatar with _no backup_ in a city chock full of _waterbenders._ He couldn’t eve leave yet, because he still hadn’t found Uncle! He needed his anonymity. But would the airbender believe him if he pretended to be someone else? _Could_ he pretend to be someone else?

Well. He’d already pretended to be a non-bender for the Pohuai Stronghold break-in. He could pretend to be non-verbal, too. It would just require a lot of self-control. (He could already _hear_ Uncle proverb-ing at him, but really, what choice did he have? Self-control may not be his strong suit, but _survival_ was. If he needed it to survive, he was sure he’d be able to hold his tongue.)

Reuniting the dual dao into a single blade, Zuko bent over to pick up his makeshift sheath, slipping the sword back into it before turning back to the Avatar and shrugging. 

The Avatar looked worried. _“Can_ you speak?” he finally asked.

Extending one hand, Zuko waggled it noncommittally. He wasn’t going to claim total muteness, just in case he slipped up and made a noise at some point. The Avatar was exasperating, and if he didn’t manage to stifle a groan in time, he didn’t want this whole ruse tumbling down around him. 

“So you _can_ speak?” the Avatar pressed, obviously confused.

Zuko sighed, but was sure to keep it voiceless. It made his point either way. Zuko lifted a hand to his throat, and made a slight choking noise, focusing on _not sounding like himself_ so hard that he wasn’t actually sure what noise he made. 

“So you _can’t_ speak,” the Avatar surmised.

It was like talking to a brick wall. Or rather, _not-talking_. Deciding to just leave it, Zuko nodded.

“Right. Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, “You disappeared after getting hit in the head with that arrow - are you okay? It looked like it hurt!”

Zuko contemplated that injury, weighing it against being _blown up in his own_ ship, or being frozen in a block of ice, or even carrying the avatar through a stupid blizzard. Eh. He’d definitely had worse. The concussion hadn’t been fun, and he’d vomited, which was never a joyous experience, but all things considered, his continued survival was something of a miracle at this point. 

“It’s so amazing that you’re _here!”_ the Avatar exclaimed.

Suspicious, I think you mean, Zuko thought bitterly. But the Avatar didn’t seem suspicious at all. Absolutely guileless. _How_ did he keep evading capture when he was so utterly _dense?_ It boggled the mind. 

“This is _great!”_ the airbender continued. “I really wanted to introduce you to my friends-” Friends. The Water Tribe siblings. In other words, people who, unlike the Avatar, would _definitely_ find his presence here suspicious. 

Besides, Zuko didn’t have _time_ to socialize. He still needed to find Uncle Iroh!

“…and Katara would definitely be glad to meet you, she’s saved me from the Fire Nation a lot of times, too! And Sokka would probably think your swords are really cool, even though he mostly uses a boomerang, he’s used a fan before too, but never a sword, I think…”

Zuko’s eyes darted around the room, looking for an exit. The _one door_ to the place was directly behind the Avatar. How was he going to get _out_ of here? 

“…let’s go!” the airbender bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, tugging on Zuko’s arm and moving for the door.

Well. That was one way to leave, he supposed. He allowed the flighty airbender to tug him out the door, but shook him off after that. Fortunately, the Avatar seemed fine with that. 

“So, I _think_ it’s this way,” he mused, turning to look in one direction. “Or maybe _that_ way…?”

Zuko edged backwards, praying that he could get another foot or two between them. He’d figure out a way to hide, he just needed a bit more space to work with.

“Or maybe that way,” the Avatar pointed, fully turning his back on Zuko.

Zuko leapt on the opportunity and fled, cursing himself all the way for getting dragged into this mess in the first place. How had the Avatar found him? Would the Avatar find him again? He didn't know.

Scrambling down a narrow side-street strewn with half melted frozen rubble, Zuko skidded across slick ice, his half-soaked boots failing to provide adequate traction, and he lost his balance, careening into a collapsed wall. His breath escaped him in a huff of pain, his ribs eager to remind him _again_ that they were still feeling the effects of some serious bending battles and having been recently almost-murdered. Pulling himself back to his feet, Zuko paused to listen for the airbender, though of course, he moved so silently that Zuko wasn’t holding out much hope. More likely he’d just appear directly behind Zuko and ask why he’d been running, or something equally stupid.

He couldn't stay in the open like this. Glancing around, Zuko wriggled his way into the first bit of shelter he could find, a portion of the collapsed wall he’d slammed into with a hollow just big enough for him to cram himself inside. About thirty seconds later, over the frantic pounding of his heart, he could just make out what sounded like the Avatar shouting himself hoarse. Zuko closed his eyes, desperately begging Agni for protection, hoping that the Avatar Spirit wouldn’t be angered by his escape and emerge once more just to tear the city apart looking for him. After several more minutes of shouting, the yelling abruptly stopped. For a minute, Zuko was tempted to believe that the Avatar had given up and left.

…Or perhaps he was waiting for Zuko to _think_ he’d left, so that he would be tempted to come out of hiding. Zuko wasn’t going to fall for that. Folding his arms and fighting the chill working into him from the _stupid damp clothes and soggy boots_ he hadn’t finished drying, Zuko waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
And…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo, Aang is hard to write  
> but also very fun?? to write?? its a complicated emotion  
> POV switches are all well and good but Zuko POV is probably the easiest for me  
> But I'll probably do a few more POV shifts throughout the fic. Haven't decided whose POV will be in the next chapter  
> Honestly this whole setup is taking longer than I thought, but I'm not mad about it.  
> Thanks to everyone for your kind feedback and support!! I hope you continue to enjoy this fic!


	3. Lost and Looking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang is confused. Sokka is too. Pakku is irritated, but this is hardly unusual for him.

Aang couldn’t _believe it._ The warriors really hadn’t been joking when they’d said that the Blue Mask Guy could disappear like a polar bear dog! He’d been _right there,_ and Aang had turned around for a _second,_ and he was gone! Just like when Blue Mask Guy had rescued him from that Fire Nation fortress, he remembered. The guy had been wobbling really bad after getting hit in the head (mask?) by an arrow, but he’d managed to stagger to his feet and Aang had dragged both of them to safety. He’d set the guy down on the ground, put his back to the guy for a second just to look in his robes to see if he still had frozen frogs (he did), and when he’d turned back around _the guy was gone._

Part of Aang had started to wonder if he’d ever been there to begin with. And now he was at the North Pole! But why? “Hey!!” he shouted, “Mask guy?” He didn’t even know his name! “Masky?” Aang shouted, using the wind to carry his voice a little farther. “Blue Mask Guy?” Why was the guy’s mask so familiar, though? He recognized the guy, now, of course, the two swords and the way he moved so fast and quiet was hard to mistake. But the mask itself was familiar too… if only he had paid better attention during the spirit tales at the temples…

But no, he realized with a frown, that wasn’t where he’d seen that mask before. Where… oh! He remembered then, where he’d seen it. He’d gone to see a play with Bumi, they thought they’d bought tickets for a theatre troupe performing _Clash of the Earth Masters,_ but when they’d arrived, it had turned out that they’d been given the time for _Love Amongst the Dragons_ instead. Despite the goofy sounding title, Bumi and Aang had been pleased to discover there was a lot of intrigue, excitement, amazing stunts, battles, and really cool dragon costumes! The antagonist of the play, _The Dark Water Spirit,_ had worn a blue and white mask almost _identical_ to the one worn by the blue mask guy. In the play, the blue-masked spirit had been an antagonist, a trickster who had fooled the Dragon Emperor into binding himself to a mortal form. A spirit who fooled dragons rather than facing them head on… it made sense, then, that this guy had chosen a guise like that to break into a Fire Nation stronghold, since the Fire Nation was the home of the dragons. But _why_ was he in the North Pole? There were no dragons here, were there? There certainly _shouldn’t_ be, Aang couldn’t imagine that the cold dry weather would be very good for their scales. Kuzon’s dragon sure hadn’t liked the cold air up high, preferring to fly closer to the surface than Appa. 

Of course, he’d figured out quickly that most people couldn’t fly as high as he and Appa could when he’d first taken Bumi for a ride. He hadn’t understood at the time why Monk Gyatso had cautioned him about flying too high, but then Bumi got sick. That was when he’d learned that airbenders naturally drew the air to their lungs when they went too high, but other benders - _especially earthbenders_ \- didn’t have that ability, and going too high could make them really sick. Of course, he’d apologized to Bumi after the incident, and Bumi had felt better soon, but it was a lesson he remembered, and meant that he’d kept a close eye on Sokka and Katara whenever they had to fly too high, and he tried to keep that time limited. Now that he thought about it, maybe _that_ was why Kuzon’s dragon hadn’t gone as high, since Dragons were the original firebenders, much in the way that Air Bison were the original airbenders. But the sun was high up in the air, and it seemed to do just fine. 

Waving the thought aside, Aang refocused. So the guy was wearing the mask of a _water spirit_ antagonist to the Dragon Emperor. That probably meant something, right? Maybe he was fighting the Fire Lord, too! He had sure been helpful once before. It still didn’t answer why he had come to the North Pole, but then, they hadn’t been expecting the Ocean to fight back. Maybe he’d come to help fight the Fire Nation here, too? 

Filling his lungs with air, Aang yelled once more, “WHERE DID YOU GO?” making a face at his own volume as he did so. It didn’t seem to make a difference, the whole area was silent and still now. Shoulders slumping into a sigh, Aang started to trudge off in a random direction. He still wasn’t exactly sure which way was back to Sokka and Katara, and he should probably climb another building to try and figure that out, but he didn’t really feel like it when he’d just failed _twice._ He’d hoped to bring the blue mask guy back to Chief Arnook, but instead he’d just brought up _more questions._ Why had he broken into the place where they were holding all the firebenders, but not take anyone? He didn’t understand what was happening. Maybe he should go back and ask Katara and Sokka if they had any ideas!

He winced at that. He hadn’t exactly _told_ them that he’d been kidnapped while they’d been sick. It hadn’t really seemed important, and then they kept having more adventures after that, and it had slipped his mind. Now he was beginning to regret that, since he had the feeling that Sokka, at least, wouldn’t be happy about being left in the dark on the subject. Still, he didn’t really have a choice. He hadn’t been able to keep Mask Guy around, but maybe Sokka could figure out a way to convince him to stay.

Nodding to himself, Aang scrambled back atop the most sturdy-looking building and swept his eyes across the landscape, this time looking for familiar territory. He _thought_ he recognized an area ahead and to the right, so he decided to head that direction.

* * *

How long did it take to tell someone you were leaving? Sokka wondered absently, frowning as his stomach rumbled slightly. He wasn’t hungry. Well okay, yes, he was hungry, he was _always_ hungry, but he didn’t _want_ to be hungry. He was tired, and sad, and now also _worried about Aang._ Where was he? It was, like, a _five minute walk_ to the reception hall where Chief Arnook was probably coordinating the rebuilding efforts. How in La's name had it taken Aang so long that the sun was starting to sink below the horizon again? Admittedly, they were only a few months on from the North’s Winter Solstice, so the days were pretty short, but Sokka was fairly certain that Aang was supposed to be back by now. 

“All right, that’s it,” he declared, standing and stretching his back out. “You coming, Katara?”

“Coming where?” Katara asked, glancing up from where she’d been going over their supplies and creating tight bundles to pack up their food and other sundries. 

“To find Aang,” Sokka replied. “He’s been gone for _hours,_ and we both know it doesn’t take that long to talk to someone.”

Katara’s eyes widened suddenly as she leapt to her feet. “Zuko!” she spat. “We never saw what happened to him after he left-”

Sokka felt the blood drain from his face at her words. He hadn’t even _considered_ that, he’d sort of assumed that any firebenders left in the city were either in pretty strict confinement or _dead._ But this was the jerkbender they were talking about. If anyone would find a way to skulk out of this _and_ kidnap Aang while he was at it, it _would_ be Zuko. “Oh man,” he said nervously. “Yeah, we definitely need to go find him.”

Katara nodded firmly, her packing forgotten in light of this new information. “Come on,” she commanded, somehow managing to forget that this whole manhunt had been _Sokka’s idea,_ and who had put her in charge? 

Sighing, knowing by now when to pick his battles (and it certainly wasn’t when Aang was involved), Sokka followed her from the hut and down the street. He hadn’t really had a plan beyond ‘go find Aang,’ though, and it seemed that Katara hadn’t had a plan either, as she slowed to a stop in the middle of the road to glance at him. “Which way?” she asked, frowning as she spun to and fro, examining each side street like it might be hiding the airbender behind any corner.

Sokka considered the question. “Maybe we should just head for the ceremonial hall?” he suggested. “That’s where Aang said he was going, so if we’re going to find a clue, that’s a good place to start -”

“Hey guys! Where are you going? Did you finish packing?”

 _“WUH!”_ Sokka did _not_ yelp, he simply… expressed his surprise. Loudly. 

“Aang!” Katara exclaimed, whirling around to face their absentee airbending Avatar. “Where were you? We were just going to look for you!”

“Oh, right,” Aang at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish at the accusation. “Well, I went to tell the Chief we were leaving, but when I got there, they were talking about this guy in a mask who broke into the firebender prison with his swords, which sounded cool, and they were looking for him, so I offered to help-”

There seemed to be no end to this sentence in sight, so Sokka sighed inwardly and steeled himself for the rest of the run-on, since there seemed no point in trying to interrupt Aang until he’d finished his explanation.

“Because I’m pretty good at finding things, but I didn’t want to bother you guys or Appa, so I just walked around the city for the while, and got a little lost, I think, but that was okay because I found him! He was wearing a blue and white spirit mask and he had two swords and I recognized him!”

Hold on, that was weird. “You _recognized_ the guy with swords and a _mask?_ _”_ Sokka demanded incredulously, not sure how one pulled off something like that. It was a _mask,_ how could you recognize someone whose face was covered?

Aang paused then to take a breath, and suddenly his posture shifted, his shoulders hunching slightly. “Oh yeah, I uh, I never told you guys about what happened when I went to get those frozen frogs,” he said.

Frozen frogs? It took Sokka a moment to realize what Aang was talking about. “The frozen frogs that you _put_ in our _mouths?”_ he demanded incredulously. “Like the frog that gave me this wart?” he added, sticking his tongue out and pointing.

“I keep telling you, Sokka, there’s no wart!” Katara groused, giving him an exasperated look. “We even had Healer Yugoda look at it and she said the same thing!”

“My tongue feels different! I _know_ it’s the frozen frog that did it!” Sokka insisted, though since his tongue was still sticking out, it didn’t look as though Katara or Aang were really able to parse his words. With a sigh, he released the sides of his mouth and pulled his tongue back in. He got no sympathy from these people, none. Why did he even bother?

“So what happened when you got the frozen frogs?” Katara asked Aang.

“Weeeell, I… kinda got captured by the Fire Nation?” Aang said weakly.

“You _WHAT?!”_ Katara shrieked. Sokka was _very_ glad he wasn’t the one facing down that particular yell, his sister had a pair of lungs and she was not shy about using them. “Was it Zuko?” she demanded.

“No, no!” Aang frowned a little, then. “Worse, actually,” he said after a minute. “Even when Zuko manages to capture me, he usually just ties me up with rope and says he’s taking me home. Zhao is worse. He put me in chains and said that they would keep me alive, but _just barely,”_ he shuddered a little, obviously still feeling anxious about what had been said to him.

Sokka tried to imagine keeping Aang tied down and _barely alive_ , and had to suppress a shudder himself. He _hated_ the Fire Nation, especially Zhao. Sokka felt the anger he’d been fighting back surge through him again at the name. Zhao, who had killed the moon spirit -as good as killed _Yue._ While Sokka found himself suddenly caught up in his anger, though, Katara was focused on the details.

“Wait, so _Zhao_ kidnapped you? And you didn’t tell us?” Her hands were on her hips and she was giving Aang one of her patented _looks._

“I was getting frozen frogs!” Aang protested, “Besides, I escaped!”

“How?” Katara demanded. “You just said you were in _chains!”_

“Yeah, but the guy in the blue mask showed up and cut the chains with his swords! It was awesome,” Aang mused. “I really thought he was going to cut me in half, at first. He’s really scary looking in the mask.”

“Okay, hold on, you lost me,” Sokka cut in. “Who is this guy in the mask?”

“I don’t know,” Aang said, “But he saved me from Zhao, and he fought firebenders with nothing but two swords and a bunch of cool moves.”

Sokka spared a moment to mentally mourn the fact that apparently _this guy’s_ non-bender status was enough to warrant the designation “cool moves,” while Sokka was still relegated to something of an afterthought. Unfair, that’s what this was. Sokka had cool moves, too!

“But then when we were escaping, his mask got hit with an arrow so I had to drag him away,” Aang continued, “And when I looked up, he was suddenly gone! Poof! Like a spirit!”

Like a spirit. Tui and La, Sokka was so tired of these stupid Spirit Tales coming to life around him. First magic water, then the Avatar, getting kidnapped by angry bear spirits in a forest, the girl he liked _turning into the moon,_ and now some masked guy vanishing into thin air? He was _so over it._ “Okay, so he walked off while you were distracted,” Sokka interrupted. “Not like it’s that hard.” He pointedly ignored the disgruntled look Katara shot in his direction. “What does this have to do with…” he frowned. “Wait. Are you telling me the same guy who busted you out of Zhao's Fire Nation Prison is _here? Now?!”_

“Yes!” Aang insisted. “I met him in the abandoned area where the catapult damage hasn’t been repaired yet - I think he was sleeping, actually,” Aang mused, breaking off mid-sentence as he considered the idea before shaking his head and returning to the topic. “And he was still wearing the mask and had the swords, but he was wearing furs that were more pale, instead of all-black like he did when he broke me out.”

So the guy knew how to disguise himself for different terrain. Sokka found himself feeling impressed despite his instinct to dislike the guy. Maybe he _was_ cool, after all. Not as cool as Sokka, of course, but he’d leave his options open, he guessed. “So what did he do?” Sokka demanded.

“What did he _say?”_ Katara added. 

“Nothing!” Aang said. “I mean, he looked pretty tired, and once he saw it was me he put his swords away. But when I asked him what he was doing, he didn’t answer. Actually, I don’t think he can talk? But he like, waved his hands at me some, and when I looked around to figure out how to get back to you guys, he _disappeared again!_ Like a spirit!” He leaned forward conspiratorially, “Actually, I think he’s wearing a _water spirit’s mask,”_ he stage-whispered. “I recognized it from a play called _Love Amongst the Dragons.”_

Setting aside the fact that Aang apparently had terrible taste in theater, Sokka considered this statement. “What water spirit?” he finally asked.

“Uh, the Dark Water Spirit, I think?” Aang said. 

“Huh. I don’t know that one,” Sokka commented. Not that he knew much about any lesser spirits, he was doing good to know of Tui and La. Or Yue and La, now, he guessed. 

“Maybe we could ask Master Pakku!” Katara suggested.

“He’s probably busy…” Sokka began to protest, but Katara was having none of it.

“This is _important!”_ She insisted. “If he’s wearing a water spirit mask, maybe he’s from the water tribes, and that’s why he’s here!”

Aang’s face seemed to say that he was about as convinced as Sokka, which was to say not at all, but he also wasn’t about to argue with Katara.

Sighing, Sokka decided he wasn’t in the mood to argue either. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled under his breath, “Let’s go talk to Master Pakku.”

* * *

The old man was getting ridiculous, Pakku reflected wearily. Honestly, it had been barely a _day,_ and already The Grand Lotus was getting antsy, threatening to go out and find his nephew himself. His nephew! _The Fire Lord’s Firstborn Son._ The Avatar’s _pursuer._ And, if the stories of the Avatar’s group could be trusted, a singularly unpleasant individual. _Why_ Iroh would be so set on bringing back that horrible child was quite beyond Pakku, it was good riddance as far as he was concerned.

But the old man was getting more anxious as the day dragged on, and Pakku hadn’t managed to find the boy among any of the Fire Nation prisoners… Nor, he’d noted with an equal measure of satisfaction and disappointment, had they found Admiral Zhao, the moon-killer. From what he’d heard, the boy was not an especially competent bender. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn the boy had failed to subdue Zhao, and had been lost in the night’s chaos. But the old man refused to believe it, insisting that his nephew was out there, somewhere, and outright _refusing to leave_ until the nephew was found!

Didn’t he know what a risk Pakku was taking even housing _one_ firebender? True, Iroh had clearly acted on their behalf last night, and even more importantly, in favor of the spirits and the balance of the world itself. Normally this would be enough to at least give him the benefit of the doubt, if he weren’t also _the Dragon of the West,_ and that wasn’t exactly something he wanted to advertise. The longer they put off his departure, the more likely they were to be discovered. Pakku couldn’t risk that. 

“Grand Lotus, I urge you to look at this from my perspective,” Pakku said, practically tossing a plate of sea-prunes onto the table as he sat, accepting a steaming cup of kelp tea and sipping it while glaring over the rim of the teacup at Iroh.

“And I urge you to look at it from mine,” Iroh replied, voice calm but resolute. “I cannot in good conscience leave until I am certain of Prince Zuko’s safety.”

“I’ve already given you my word,” Pakku insisted, his sour expression having nothing to do with the sea prune he popped into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, washing the pickled snack down with another sip of perfectly balanced kelp tea, trying not to feel insulted by the fact that Iroh was somehow better at brewing his own culture’s tea than he was himself. “I will ensure that Zuko is seen safely to the Earth Kingdom, just as I am ensuring _you_ passage.” _Although I personally disagree that he has earned this special treatment, considering his reasons for coming here are significantly different from your own,_ he thought irritably. “I’ve already sent word to our contact in Omashu to be watching for him, precisely for a situation such as this,” he added. 

Iroh simply sipped his own kelp tea, his eyes watching Pakku without so much as a hit of malice, as he simply said, “I am afraid that is not acceptable to me. I must know.”

Pakku set his teacup down in order to pinch the bridge of his nose in what was likely a fruitless attempt to ward off an oncoming headache. “Grand Lotus-”

“Please, Master Pakku,” Iroh interrupted, his voice catching, “I must know. I can’t bear _not knowing.”_

Pakku had never married, never had children of his own, yet he’d felt his heart tug at the mere sight of Kanna’s necklace worn by Katara, had felt his heart and mind settle at hearing that she still lived. He could not in good conscience deny Iroh the same chance to find his answer, even if that answer turned out to be one different than the one he expected - no, _needed -_ to hear.

Inclining his head slowly, Pakku sighed. “One more day, Iroh. Then we need to start considering… other possibilities.”

“I understand,” Iroh said, his shoulders set in a stubborn way that reminded Pakku unsettlingly of Katara when she had decided the world should be a certain way, and nothing could convince her otherwise. “I am sure you will find him soon.”

For Iroh’s sake, Pakku hoped that was the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the hardest part of this fic is choosing a stupid chapter title, i literally didn't think far enough ahead to decide on a chapter title scheme and this was obviously a poor decision
> 
> ...also, I really didn't expect the north pole to take more than 3 chapters, tops, and now it's looking like it's going to take at LEAST 6 chapters to even get them off the ground... Zuko is so troublesome, I swear
> 
> anyway thanks to everyone for reading, I really love this fic and I'm glad other people seem to like it too!
> 
> Side note: Kelp / Seaweed tea is a real thing, it's very salty and full of umami flavor. It goes great with pickled plums, so it seemed like a nice food to pair with sea prunes. That is all.


	4. Stalking and Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is still looking for Uncle. The Gaang is looking for answers.

By the time Zuko felt safe moving again, he was so cold his limbs seemed to have locked up. He wasn’t dumb enough to go back to the same house he’d been in before, but that meant he was once again at a loss for what to _do._ He needed to find Uncle and get them _out,_ but Uncle hasn’t been in the prison, so where could he be? 

Zuko half-wished he’d had the presence of mind to ask the Avatar, but a question like that probably would have come across as suspicious. 

Well, fine. Obviously he was going to need to do a little reconnaissance in a more populated part of town. 

...once he got the circulation going in his limbs, anyway. Damp furs were the _worst,_ and his breath of fire could only do so much. He was so glad Uncle had taught him the technique, or he’d likely be frozen solid by now. The only problem was all the deep breaths weren’t doing his injured ribs any favors, and using his firebending constantly was exhausting. 

Zuko’s stomach growled, reminding him his meager meal of jerky and prunes had not been enough. He wasn’t going to be able to sneak around if his stomach was going to give him away, he was realizing. He’d need to take a few minutes to find another house, rummage through the stores, and find enough food for a meal, and hopefully something to snack on so his stomach would stop complaining. He’d never forgive himself if his _grumbly stomach_ turned out to be the thing that landed him in Water Tribe custody. 

Moving slowly so he wouldn’t make a dumb move and get caught (his arms and legs still weren’t working quite the way they should), Zuko began picking through the catapult-decimated area, keeping a sharp eye out for food. As usual, his luck was in full swing, because it took him far longer than he’d hoped just to find something to eat. Then he had to find somewhere hidden so he could lift his mask away from his face and actually eat the food. By the time he had found the food and started eating, he realized he was _thirsty,_ too. Which was stupid, he was surrounded with ice, but somehow the air was _dry._ He considered the ice scattered around, but it was pretty dirty, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about sucking on someone’s _wall._ Finally, he found a pot. Then he found himself facing another dilemma - did he drink water straight from the canals? What kind of weird things might be floating in that water? Zuko had learned the hard way the kinds of nasty illness that could get you after drinking bad water - he understood after that why Uncle insisted on drinking so much tea - apparently boiling the water made it a lot less likely to give you horrible stomach cramps and force the contents of your stomach out both ends. 

He’d been working on his heat production - after all, he’d used it to melt through ice a few times already, so he _should_ be able to boil water without producing a flame, right? Before he could second-guess himself, Zuko grabbed the pot and marched in the direction of the nearest canal. Only one way to find out, and that was to try. He hadn’t gotten this far by wondering about stuff, he’d just _done it._ After looking both ways to make sure no one was watching, Zuko scooped some water into the pot and scuttled back for the nearest crumpled building, easing into a narrow corner and clutching the pot between his hands. He had to bend the heat _away_ from his hands, so they didn’t burn, but still needed to heat the _water,_ so it would boil and kill any nasty stomach-cramp diseases that might be in it. 

He couldn’t tell at first if his heat-bending was really doing the job, but after a few seconds, a wisp of steam curled from the water in the pot. Then, _more_ steam. Bubbles started to form, and Zuko held it at a rolling boil for a few minutes, until he could feel sweat running down his face from the effort of concentrating on _bending the heat in the water but keeping it_ _away from his hands._ He was about to set the pot on the ground when he realized that _boiling hot and ice didn’t mix._ He was going to need to keep bending the heat away from his hands, unless - With a sharp exhale, Zuko pushed the heat out and away from the water entirely, causing a bloom of steam to escape the water. It should be right around Uncle’s tea temperature, now. He hoped. Otherwise he was about to scald his mouth, because Zuko _needed to drink something, now._ He’d been thirsty before, but now that he’d been _sweating_ for the better part of a minute, after having eaten nothing but salted vegetables and salted meat for two meals? He felt like he might _die_ if he didn’t have water _now._

Predictably, the water burned his mouth. But only a little bit, and Zuko was too thirsty to care if his tongue felt weird for the next hour or so. He did try to bend a bit more heat off, though, because he didn’t want to _keep_ burning his tongue every time he took a sip. Once he’d drank his fill, he stared at the pot, still half-full, wondering what to do with it. It seemed like a waste to discard the water after he’d gone to all the effort of sterilizing it, but it wasn’t like he could bring it with him, he’d have a hard enough time sneaking around the city without lugging around a large clunky water pot. With a longing look, Zuko stashed it in his hiding place, fairly certain he wouldn’t make it back here, but leaving it just in case. If nothing else, at least he now knew he could boil water without an open flame. That was something, anyway. 

Hunger and thirst satisfied for the moment, Zuko slunk back in the direction of the populated areas of the city. Now all he needed to do was find Uncle.

* * *

It took Zuko longer than he would have liked to find an area where people were actively walking around, and even longer to find a place where he could hunker down to eavesdrop on the people going by on the streets or sailing along the canals. 

It was just his luck that he’d only been there for about twenty minutes before _the Avatar_ and his group walked by. Zuko couldn’t hear much, but what he did hear made him start rethinking his current strategy.

“I still don’t know what kind of guest would be more special than the _Avatar,”_ the peasant girl was saying as they approached. “Who on Earth could be so special that Master Pakku was hosting them in his own home?”

“I think it’s less about how special they are and more about _not_ wanting to host a bunch of kids,” the non-bender said, his tone obviously implying that he didn’t count himself as a kid when he made this point. “He’s not exactly good with… Actually, is he good with any kind of people?” 

“Master Pakku is an excellent teacher!” the girl protested as they continued past Zuko’s hiding place.

“Yeah!” the Avatar chimed in, “he’s not very _nice,_ but-”

“That’s what I’m saying! Honestly I feel bad for whoever’s staying with him, that can’t be an ideal situation…” And the group turned the corner, quickly fading from earshot.

But now Zuko was thinking. Master Pakku was in charge of the prisoners. He had a “Special Guest” despite an apparent record of misanthropy. Uncle Iroh was still missing.

Zuko didn’t want to believe it, but Uncle wasn’t exactly the General who led the Siege at Ba Sing Se anymore. Hadn’t been, ever since he came back, after Lu Ten…

The point was, it was _entirely possible_ that a master waterbender like Pakku was holding Uncle Iroh captive! And his best chance of finding Master Pakku’s residence had just walked past him.

If it turned out Uncle _wasn’t_ with the old waterbender, Zuko had no doubt he was going to get an earful about this plan. Even if Uncle _was_ there, he’d probably get a few proverbs, a soft frown, and entirely too many cups of calming tea. Ugh, he never thought he’d _miss_ the exasperating advice and hot leaf water, but he did. 

Hopefully, the Avatar wouldn’t notice a shadow following him to the master waterbender’s home. If he did? Well, Zuko would deal with that when it happened, he didn’t have time to think about it now.

Slipping from his hiding place, he trailed the Avatar and his posse. It wasn’t hard, they weren’t exactly moving quietly. The harder part was keeping to the shadows when they kept crossing _bridges over canals._ Slipping from building to building was one thing - trying to stay surreptitious when you were crossing a bridge? Much harder. 

A few times, Zuko thought he’d lost them, but again, they weren’t exactly secretive, and he was able to follow the sound of their voices without much trouble. He caught up with them just as they were gathering around a door, arguing over who should try to get the Master Waterbender’s attention.

“He likes you best, Katara,” the airbender was saying, “You should be the one to ask if we can go in.”

“I don’t know about that,” the girl (Katara?) was protesting.

“He doesn’t even know I exist, I think,” the boomerang guy sighed, “I think it should definitely be you.”

The girl was frowning at that. “I still think the Avatar would be more convincing-”

“Oh by all means, continue bickering about who should announce your presence,” the thick furs at the entrance of the house were flung aside to reveal the grumpy old waterbender. “It’s certainly not going to alert the entire _neighborhood_ to your presence.”

“Master Pakku!” the waterbender girl exclaimed. “We came to ask you about Water Tribe legends.”

That managed to take the old man by surprise. “Why me?” he asked. “I am a warrior, not a story dancer.”

“But you’re an elder, aren’t you?” the Avatar pointed out, which was a nice way of saying the man was _old._ “I thought all elders know the important stories of the spirits.”

“Knowing them and being good at telling them are two very different things,” the waterbending master replied with a sharp look. “I have had no children of my own to instruct, and the students who come to me are often advanced learners. Most of the tales I tell are those of men, not spirits.”

“Well then who _should_ we ask about the Dark Water Spirit?” the waterbender girl demanded, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at the waterbending master with some measure of defiance.

Zuko was almost impressed. Sure, he was pretty infamous for standing up to authority figures, but he’d also learned the _suffering_ that often followed such insolence. He really hadn’t learned, even in these three years, because he’d turned right around and challenged _Zhao,_ and where had that landed him? Here, stranded in the Northern Water Tribe, with no ship and no crew because Zhao had _blown it to smithereens._ He’d lost his face (literally, as well as metaphorically, he supposed) to his father’s punishment, and then he’d lost his ship and his crew to Zhao’s retaliation. When was he going to learn?

Shaking his head sharply, Zuko dismissed the thought, returning his attention to the conversation.

“I have heard about a masked figure breaking into the prisoners’ holding area, yes,” the waterbending master was saying, a sour look on his face. Zuko noted with smugness that the man didn’t bother to say he’d _been there_ at the time. 

Of course, if the waterbending master had been close enough to actually _see_ Zuko, then Zuko likely wouldn’t have been able to escape, so he pushed aside the urge to smirk and settled back to wait and see if the Avatar’s group was ever going to go inside so he could sneak around to the back of the ice house. If they could keep the master waterbender distracted, it would be all the easier for Zuko to find out if Uncle was here.

“Well we were trying to figure out what it might _mean,”_ the Avatar was saying, “And we thought you would know best, because you’re an elder of the tribe, _and_ a teacher.”

“I teach combat, not history,” Master Pakku grumbled, but it was becoming clear he’d nearly given up on discouraging the Avatar and his water tribe hang-ons. Now he just had to capitulate, let them in, and Zuko could start investigating. “Oh very well, you may come in,” he finally said, tugging the firs aside to allow them entry.

Zuko allowed a small sigh of relief to escape as he watched them bundle into the waterbending master’s house. Once he was certain they’d moved away from the door, he began to creep around it, looking for any other windows where he could listen, or maybe even peek inside.

* * *

Master Pakku seemed irritated to be interrupted by them and their questions. Katara had been so excited to come and ask him about the masked person, but now that they were here she began to wonder if they’d made a mistake. 

“So what do you want to know?” Master Pakku demanded, settling down on one of his furs and gesturing for them to take one of the other furs scattered around his small house. For an important figure of the tribe, Master Pakku didn’t seem too interested in showing his wealth or influence - which was quite modest of him, Katara found herself thinking absently. She would have expected something more impressive, considering how proud the man was. But perhaps it was the sort of pride in what he could _do,_ more than what he _had._ She could understand that, it was the same sort of pride she and her brother had. The Southern Water Tribe _had_ very little, but they took great pride in their accomplishments. It was just another little thing that she was coming to appreciate about Master Pakku. 

“So I went looking for the mask guy after I heard about him,” Aang began, settling down on the fur nearest Katara before picking up where he’d left off. “And I found him! He was hiding in a hut.”

Master Pakku’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “What was he doing there?”

“Uh, sleeping? I think?” Aang scratched awkwardly at his head as he wilted under the man’s critical eye. “He hadn’t even picked up his sword yet when I got there. But he didn’t try to attack me or anything, he just… left. As soon as I turned around.”

“Tell him about the Fire Nation stronghold!” Sokka urged.

“Right!” Aang turned his earnest gaze back to Pakku. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him!” he exclaimed. “I met him once before, in the Earth Kingdom. I was captured by the Fire Nation, and he broke me out of their cell.”

Master Pakku’s hard gaze grew even more sharp, like a shard of ice. “How do you know the same person who broke you out there is now _here?”_ he demanded.

“Well, he moves the same,” Aang explained, faltering slightly. After all, she and Sokka had believed him right away. They hadn’t thought to really argue with him.

“He was wearing a mask both times, and if someone had similar training, would you be able to differentiate between one warrior and another?” Master Pakku asked.

“Uh… probably?” Aang answered, squirming uncomfortably on the fur. He obviously hadn’t expected the conversation to go like this.

“That’s not why we came, though,” Katara interrupted. “Aang recognized the mask as one of a _water spirit._ We were wondering if there might be some sort of spirit connection to this person’s actions.”

“A water spirit, yes,” Master Pakku said slowly, “but not a spirit of the Water Tribe.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Sokka griped from his seat, but a sharp look from both herself _and_ Master Pakku had him quickly backing down. “Fine, sorry, forget I said anything.”

“The Dark Water Spirit - more commonly known as the _Blue Spirit -_ is, in fact, a lesser ocean spirit, but he is not typically found in polar waters,” Master Pakku explained. “He is a spirit of trickery and cunning, who finds pleasure in toying with human lives and has even, at times, taken those lives in the name of La, the Great Spirit of the Ocean.”

Katara turned to look at Sokka. “An ocean spirit that takes lives?” she repeated quietly. Of course, in the Southern Water Tribe, they all knew the ocean was not truly good or evil. Like the tides, sometimes it pushed good favor to them, and other times, it pulled that fortune away. You could depend on the ocean, yes, but it was never safe to trust it completely. The ocean was cold and unforgiving, yet brought forth life and abundance. But a _dark_ water spirit… Katara shuddered to think of the horrors a dark ocean spirit might wreak.

“Yes, although these lives lost are often due to foolishness, absent-mindedness, or a lack of respect for the power of the ocean,” Master Pakku explained. “If you do not respect the ocean, it can very easily _remind_ you of the consequences of such a poor decision.” He turned, then, to Aang. “Tell me, Avatar, have you ever played on the ocean’s shore?”

Aang nodded quickly. “Yeah! It’s a lot of fun, you get to splash in the waves and-” he shut his mouth quickly, seeing the pained look crossing Master Pakku’s features. Katara felt a little sorry for him; Aang was just excited to share, he loved to talk about his experiences. She was a little annoyed with Master Pakku for dimming that enthusiasm. Then again, they’d come here for information, so maybe Master Pakku wasn’t all wrong in his death glare, though Katara still thought he could have let Aang finish.

“And have you heard of a rip current?” Master Pakku continued, apparently choosing to ignore the dirty look Katara was sending his way.

Aang tilted his head quizzically. “No, I don’t think I have,” he answered honestly. “What’s a rip current?” Katara turned to Master Pakku with equal curiosity, noting that Sokka, too, looked more than a little interested. 

“Sometimes called _the Blue Spirit’s hand,”_ Master Pakku intoned, “A rip current is a small, surface current - similar to the ones used to navigate the seas,” he explained. “But much smaller, and much more _dangerous.”_

“How could it be small _and_ dangerous?” Sokka piped up from his seat beside Katara. “If it’s small, it couldn’t really affect any of our vessels, right?”

“Quite right,” Master Pakku agreed, more amiably than Katara had expected, considering Sokka had interrupted him. “However, unlike the poles, in more temperate waters, _people_ often swim on the beach.”

Katara nodded, thinking back to their own fun on Kiyoshi Island, before wincing at the memory of the Unagi. Ice dodging with Bato had been fun, too, but they hadn’t really had much time to play in the sea water. 

“Wait a minute,” Sokka said, his voice sharp. “Are you telling me… the current takes _people?”_

“Sometimes it just knocks them down and rolls them around a bit, sometimes it drags them out into deep water. Sometimes, those people never make it back to shore,” Master Pakku answered, his eyes serious. “A rip current is a dangerous thing, but if you know what signs to watch for, you can avoid it. As is the case with most trickery, a keen eye for detail and a firm head on your shoulders will help you avoid most of the troubles headed your way.”

Katara nodded, frowning as she considered that. “So a trickster spirit who _kills people…”_

“Or just likes to play tricks on them!” Aang interrupted. “A trickster, you said. So they aren’t _evil?”_

“What is evil, to the ocean? What is _good?”_ Master Pakku replied. “The Ocean _is,_ and you must respect it. If you don’t, sometimes people get hurt. You don’t call a polar jaguar _evil_ if it kills a man, for it is in a polar jaguar’s nature to kill and to eat. You blame the man for not approaching his hunt with the necessary caution and respect to subdue such a beast. The Ocean is like that, too. You must approach it with caution and respect, and should you lose your life to it, perhaps you have not respected it as much as you should.” Master Pakku nodded firmly to emphasize his point.

Sokka was nodding along with Katara - they’d both grown up knowing this, but it was still a difficult concept to think about, especially when there was a _person_ out there taking the guise of a _killer trickster spirit._ Because while the Ocean may not be evil, people sure could be. Katara frowned, slowly bringing up that point. “So if the man in the mask is disguising himself as a trickster spirit of the ocean…”

“He must be against the Fire Nation! I mean, water and fire _are_ opposites, right?” Aang looked hopeful. “He helped me once before, I’m sure he’d help us again if we needed it.”

Master Pakku looked about as convinced as Sokka, which wasn’t much. Katara wasn’t sure she agreed with their skepticism, though. Anyone who was helping Aang escape the Fire Nation couldn’t be _all bad._ Sure, whoever it was wore the mask of a trickster. They might be tricky, then. That was a lot better than the Fire Nation, which really _was_ evil! As far as she was concerned, tricky beat _evil_ any day.

“We don’t know _what_ that man wants,” Master Pakku replied, “And I urge you to approach him as you would the ocean - with caution, and respect.”

“I can do that,” Aang promised, with a speed that made Katara wonder if he really meant it. “I just wish we could find him-”

At that moment, as if by providence, they heard a crashing sound and some yelling from just outside. 

“Hey! You there!! Stop!” 

“It’s the masked intruder! Get him!”

“Master Pakku! The masked man!”

By the time the third person had finished shouting, all four of them were piling out of Master Pakku’s house and into the street, where they saw - a man, not very big, bundled in pale furs, dual swords drawn, with a blue spirit-mask tied over his face.

And Aang, of course, couldn’t resist stepping in, breezing his way past the warriors to stand _right in front of the sharp swords of a man wearing the mask of a trickster spirit_. “Hey! Masky! You came back!”

* * *

If Aang looked surprised to see the Blue Spirit Mask Guy, the Blue Spirit Mask Guy (Sokka was going to have to figure out some better shorthand, that took _way_ too long to say) looked _way_ more surprised to be confronted with a bubbly airbender. Which was fair, as he’d obviously been gearing up for a fight with some guys who must have caught him sneaking around. 

Actually, now that he considered that, why _was_ the guy sneaking around? What was he after? Was he looking for someone or something in particular? 

“Avatar Aang,” Master Pakku called exasperatedly, “Those are swords.”

“I know, cool, right?” Aang replied, gesturing to the gleaming steel with a wide grin, obviously having completely missed the point. 

In fairness, the Blue Spirit Mask Guy (ugh) looked as exasperated as Master Pakku, which was impressive considering all he had to work with was his body language. Sokka considered getting a few pointers - he’d kill to be able to express sheer exasperation through a slouched shoulder or two. 

Slowly, which was probably a good idea considering he was facing down some heavy hitters in the form of Master Pakku, Aang, and Katara, the Blue Spirit Mask Guy (Blue Guy? Mask Guy? Ugh) slowly sheathed his swords and lifted his hands in the air. 

“Where did you go before?” Aang was asking the guy, apparently not having absorbed _any part_ of Master Pakku’s suggestion that the mysterious Mask Guy (yeah no he wasn’t feeling it) be approached with _caution and respect._

Oddly, the Blue Masked Guy (that's a negative) gestured briefly, waving his hands in a small circle before pointing to the street. Sokka had _no idea_ what the guy was trying to say, and it seemed like Aang wasn’t too sure, either, because he tilted his head as if scrutinizing the Mask-Wearing Menace (nah) before brushing the matter aside. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here now,” he declared, _grabbing the Blue Spirit’s arm_ (still not quite doing it) and dragging him towards Master Pakku, Sokka, and Katara. “Hey guys!” he called as he manhandled a man who seemed almost twice his size past the first of the three Water Tribesmen who had sounded the alarm, “This is the guy who saved me from that Fire Nation fortress!”

Sokka hadn’t realized it was possible for someone to look _embarrassed_ while wearing a mask, but this guy’s cringe was _on point._ He looked like he was shrinking into himself more with every step closer that Aang took. Sokka was about to remind Aang to proceed with _caution and respect_ when Katara stepped forward.

“Hi,” his darling, _idiotic_ sister said, approaching Aang and his Masked Friend (not that one, either). “I’m Katara. Thank you for helping Aang, it means a lot to us.”

If Masky (it would do, for the time being) could have melted into the ground, at this point he probably would have. At least, it sure seemed that way. He nodded jerkily, before shuffling into an awkward Earth Kingdom style bow. Huh. Interesting. Sokka noted Katara filing that information away as well, and felt a small flush of pride. She was annoying, sure, but she was still his sister, and she was smart and capable. He’d never _ever_ admit it to her face, but moments like these, he was glad to be her big brother. “And I’m Sokka,” he added, joining the group because it seemed like the situation was pretty well defused at this point (at least the swords had gone away) and he figured a bit of solidarity was in order. “And you are?”

Masky shrugged one shoulder, gestured briefly with his hands, then shrugged again.

“Can’t you talk?” Katara asked, sounding concerned. “Are you hurt?”

Masky shook his head in a negative response, pointed to his throat, gestured low to the ground (about toddler height), made a slashing motion at his throat, then shrugged again, as if to say it was something from when he was young. Pretty impressive gesture work, all things considered. “So what do we call you, then?” Sokka pressed, not willing to let this one drop. He was _not_ going to keep calling him Masky.

Masky had the audacity to _shrug,_ then point to his mask. 

“I am _not_ calling you Masky,” Sokka declared.

Masky recoiled a bit, as if he hadn’t expected that, then pointed at his pants, next. 

“I’m also not calling you pants _,”_ Sokka added. “Or any other clothing or accessory.”

Masky gestured exasperatedly for a second before pointing at the sky, his mask, and his pants in rapid succession, then pointed at Sokka, Katara, and Master Pakku. This confused all of them.

“I gotta admit, I am totally lost,” Sokka said. “I guess Masky it is.”

Masky made a sort of strangling gesture in the air, then sighed, nodding slowly. 

“So… _Masky,”_ Master Pakku said dryly, wincing slightly as though the word _Masky_ left a bad taste in his mouth, “Why are you here?”

Masky made an exaggerated gesture of _looking,_ lifting a hand up to his forehead and gazing dramatically to the left and the right. 

“You’re looking for something?” Sokka guessed.

Masky nodded sharply, then lifted his left hand up over his eye and wiggled his fingers. 

Aang and Katara exchanged confused glances with Sokka, but Master Pakku seemed to figure it out pretty fast. 

“You’re looking for the Fire Nation Prince, Zuko?” he asked.

Masky nodded a few times, then gestured as if setting something aside, and stretched his arms out wider, as if he were more bulky, then pantomimed drinking tea. 

Master Pakku’s eyes narrowed as he said, “And his … Uncle?”

Masky nodded again.

As surprising as it was to hear that there was someone apparently pursuing Aang’s pursuer, Sokka had a bigger question. As far as he knew, Pakku had been out fighting the invasion when Zuko and his Uncle had shown up. 

So how did he know they were here? And if he knew that they were here, why wasn’t he looking for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I definitely didn't think this chapter-title scheme through...  
> sorry this chapter's a little late, I wanted to get it up earlier but sometimes life just hands you a rough week and... well, hey, I'm still here and managed to get something written, I'm going to call that success.  
> Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment, I love hearing from you all so much.  
> It's worth noting that I know absolutely nothing about The Dark Water Spirit/Blue Spirit except that he's the antagonist in _Love Amongst The Dragons_ \- everything contained in this chapter is just something I made up. I tried to think of how "dark water" might be an antagonist to a Nation of Islands, and this was what I came up with.  
> Also, rip currents are super dangerous and can appear anywhere. They're often disguised as smooth water in areas with lots of waves, so people who don't know better would play there because it "looks safer". It's not!! Be careful when you play in the surf, folks. It'll getcha.


	5. Persuasion and Evasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko finds Uncle, momentarily. Of course it couldn't be that simple.

So things were really not going Zuko’s way. A somewhat cynical part of him wondered how that was any different from the usual. He’d been careful, of course, creeping around the back of the Waterbending Master’s house, straining his ears to try and make sure whatever window he chose to peek in through wouldn’t also be a window into the room where the Avatar and his hangers-on were deep in conversation.

And it had been working, too! He’d found Uncle!! That hadn’t even been the weird part, the weird part was when Uncle _recognized him_ in his Blue Spirit getup. All right, all right, he should have expected that Uncle probably figured out early on why his dao swords needed regular sharpening and he might have spotted Zuko sneaking off before music night and put two and two together, but it still felt a little embarrassing to have his alter ego just casually ignored as Uncle looked up, spotted his mask, and instantly _charged_ across what looked like a bedroom to wrap Zuko in a bear hug. This proved largely unsuccessful, since the window was a bit too small to fit Zuko’s shoulders, and definitely wasn't built for Uncle’s girth. Still, he was glad for the fumbling arm-hug because it meant he’d finally found Uncle!

“Uncle,” Zuko hissed, “We need to go!” 

“Yes, we do,” Uncle agreed, “But this kind man has offered us a raft and enough supplies to get us to the Earth Kingdom port of Onsenzakura. We should wait here until nightfall.”

Zuko just stared blankly at Uncle for a long second, momentarily struck mute by the inane thing that Uncle Iroh just suggested. “The man you are staying with is a _master waterbender!”_ he hissed, “He was coordinating the prisoners they took! He is _not_ someone who’s going to just hand over an escape raft!” he added in a sharp whisper, fighting to keep his voice low and only mostly succeeding.

“Prince Zuko, we are of no value to these people, and I promised this man that I would leave peacefully. He recognized the wisdom in bidding farewell to the Dragon of the West, rather than trying to take me down.” 

That didn’t even make _sense,_ Uncle was an incredibly valuable prisoner! “Who wouldn’t want you as a prisoner?” Zuko demanded.

Uncle gave Zuko one of his sad _I have tried to tell you this before_ looks, before answering. “I am a failure, prince Zuko, and the Fire Lord - your father - does not tolerate failure. I am worthless as a political prisoner, and am an army officer, not Navy, and thus have little relevant information to share regarding fleet movements.” 

“But this was _Zhao’s_ invasion!” Zuko protested. “Surely father wouldn’t blame _you_ for this!”

“Were Admiral Zhao with us, I am sure he too would carry a portion of the blame,” Uncle answered simply. “But remember, Prince Zuko - after Ba Sing Se, this assault on the water tribes is my second failure. Ozai will not tolerate a third.” 

“You’re wrong!” Zuko insisted hotly, unwilling to hear such a thing. If two failures were enough to ruin Uncle’s worth in the eyes of his father, how would the Fire Lord feel about Zuko’s own repeated failure to capture the Avatar? He refused to think about it. Father wanted him back. Wanted Uncle back. They didn’t need to rely on some barbarian to give them an escape route, they could flee on their own! 

“Let’s just go _now,_ Uncle!” Zuko urged, “I’m sure together we could-”

“Hey! You there!! Stop!” 

Zuko froze, turning to look at a duo of blue-fur wearing barbarians, brandishing spears. This was _really_ not his day. 

“It’s the masked intruder!” the one shouted, which was probably obvious to the other two, but Zuko wasn’t going to waste valuable time criticising his choice to state the obvious. “Get him!”

“Master Pakku! The masked man!” the other yelled, and Zuko knew he had seconds to get clear before some _real nasty bending_ went down. He ran straight for the trio, only to leap up, kick off of a window frame, and soar _over_ the trio, heading back for the main street, mentally scolding himself for losing focus and allowing himself to be discovered. 

Skidding into the main street, he drew up at the spear pointed in his direction. Agni curse him, he hadn’t expected backup so soon! He turned to run the other way, but the two from the alley had made it out, approaching him from the other direction.

Sighing internally at the _mess_ he’d found himself in, Zuko drew his swords.

And then the Avatar was standing in front of him, babbling about whatever and _dragging him over_ to “meet his friends” (precisely what Zuko had been hoping to avoid) and also stare down the master waterbender who was hiding Uncle in his _bedroom._

After a few spirits-cursed minutes of frantically gesturing and resisting the urge to hit his head against something hard (or better yet, hit _the Avatar’s_ head against something hard), they finally seemed to establish that Zuko was looking for Uncle. Hopefully this would convince the waterbending master to just let them go, now that he knew that _Zuko_ knew Uncle Iroh’s whereabouts. 

But _apparently_ he hadn’t thought this plan through, either, because the next thing the master waterbender said was, “Well, you’d better come inside, then.” 

Zuko didn’t have much of a choice after that, seeing as the Avatar immediately latched back onto his arm like he was afraid Zuko would run away again (not likely, unless the three city guards were willing to give him a head start). Sighing softly, Zuko resigned himself to following the Avatar’s entourage into the icy hut. 

It was _warm_ inside _,_ and with Zuko’s parka still being somewhat soggy, the heat felt _amazing._ Part of him wanted to curl up and go to sleep the minute they stepped inside, and he had to mentally shake himself because this was a bad time to be thinking about _sleep._

“Hey, Master Pakku!” the Avatar was saying in a voice that was _far too cheerful,_ at least by Zuko’s estimation, “Do you have anything to write with?” he paused then, turning to Zuko with an exaggerated gasp. “You _can_ write, can’t you?”

Zuko nodded. It didn’t seem fair to be insulted by such a question. After all, in some of the more far-flung villages of the Earth Kingdom, literacy wasn’t always considered as essential as putting food on the table, and scrolls could be incredibly difficult to come by. He felt a little insulted anyway, because, well, of _course_ he could write! 

Master Pakku simply sighed gustily. “I hope you know that precious commodities like ink and paper are not to be wasted on light matters.”

“They aren’t?” the Avatar looked surprised by this. “Why not?”

“There’s not many trees that we can cut down, and making paper by hand is a long process,” Boomerang boy answered. 

“Well what _do_ you use then?” the airbender asked. “Slate and chalk?”

Master Pakku raised a skeptical eyebrow, gesturing expansively. “Oh yes, with all the varieties of _stone_ we have around here, I’m sure sourcing something like that would be no trouble at all.”

“We use charcoal,” the water tribe brother explained, “and parchment.”

Ah yes, animal skins did seem to be quite the commodity around here, so that made sense to Zuko. Charcoal would serve dual purposes, too, and could be used as either fuel or writing tool. As the water tribes were known for an oral tradition rather than vast libraries, Zuko suspected that these writing tools were also fairly scarce, likely intended for trade with those outside the tribe and to learn the writing system outsiders used, rather than as a significant part of their education. Part of him was jealous, as he’d hated practicing his brushwork for hours on end when he’d been a kid. He’d never had a steady enough hand to impress his calligraphy teacher.

“Lucky for you,” Master Pakku shot a look of irritation in Zuko’s direction, “I happen to have some handy.” He started across the room, saw them all standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor and sighed. “Go ahead and have a seat,” he said, “I imagine this might take awhile.”

* * *

Masky seemed _on edge,_ which was surprising to Aang. He still wasn’t sure why the guy had run away before, but hearing that he’d been looking for Zuko and his uncle made him curious. “So why are you looking for Zuko?” Aang asked, turning to fully look at Masky.

The pale-blue clad figure stiffened a little under his focused attention, like he wasn’t sure what to do with Aang’s stare. Finally, he shrugged. Which, to be fair, was about all he could do since the gesturing he’d done earlier hadn’t been clear enough to Aang, Sokka, or Katara. 

“How do you even know about those guys?” Sokka demanded, leaning forward, a suspicious look on his face. Aang was always impressed by how quickly Sokka picked up on inconsistencies, even if he did have a somewhat annoying habit of refusing to acknowledge the mystical when it confronted him. Then again, maybe that was more about expressing irritation, since Sokka did seem to always end up with trouble whenever they were dealing with spirits. _That_ made Aang start thinking about Yue, which made him sad. Masky, however, was already gesturing again.

He lifted his hand up over his eye and wiggled it again. 

“Okay, Zuko,” Sokka acknowledged, since they’d apparently established this gesture already. 

Masky made a few punching motions, a sort of sweeping hand gesture, and then a few more sharp striking motions. For a minute, Aang worried that he was trying to attack Sokka, except he sure wasn’t trying very hard. 

“Punch?” Aang guessed. “You want to punch Zuko?”

Masky slapped an open palm to his forehead. He shook his head, made the ‘Zuko’ gesture again, then punched halfway with one hand, while his other hand moved beside it. When the first punch stopped halfway, the second hand kept going, splaying out the fingers. 

“Uh,” Aang frowned.

“Firebending!” Sokka shouted, pointing a finger.

“Where?” Katara demanded, moving like she was about to start waterbending in the middle of Pakku’s house. 

“No, that’s the _gesture,”_ Sokka told her. “Right?” he asked Masky.

Masky nodded. 

“Zuko. Firebending.” Sokka ticked off the two words on his fingers.

Masky tapped the cheeks of his mask with open palms, then did the punch-palm thing again. 

“Cheek… bending?” Sokka guessed hesitantly.

Masky shook his head, puffed up and moved his shoulders like he was marching, then repeated the gesture, touching the sides of his face again. Then, he pointed at Aang. 

“Me?” Aang asked. “Walking?”

Maky slapped his palm to his face again. If he kept that up, it was probably going to leave a bruise. He shook his head sharply, then wrapped a hand around his wrist and repeated the gesture with the other wrist. He pointed to Aang again, imitated nocking an arrow and drawing it back, pointed to himself, then clapped his open palms to the sides of his face again. 

“Aang… bracelets, archer, mask, cheeks,” Sokka said thoughtfully. “Aang? Do you have bracelets?”

“No,” Aang answered, but Masky was already waving his hands to try and stop whatever they were saying, so apparently they were _still_ on the wrong track.

He clapped his hands to his face twice.

“Cheeks.”

Masky shook his head.

“Face.”

Masky shook his head.

“Is it a thing?” Katara asked suddenly, “Or a person?”

Masky pointed at her and nodded. 

“A thing?” Sokka repeated.

Masky shook his head.

“A person,” Aang said.

Masky pointed and nodded.

“Ok, a person with cheeks…” Sokka muttered, rubbing his chin as he thought. 

Masky slapped an open palm to his face again. _Zuko. Firebend. Cheeks. Firebend._

“Wait, were Cheeks and Zuko fighting?” Katara asked. 

Masky nodded hard.

“Is cheeks one of us?” Aang asked, sweeping his arm to indicate himself, Sokka, and Katara.

Masky turned to him in a way that seemed to say he was running out of patience, which was impressive, since his face was still covered. _Very slowly,_ as if he was gesturing to someone who was having a difficult time understanding, he gestured _Firebend_ again. 

“Oh, so cheeks is a firebender,” Aang said. “Zuko and another firebender were fighting…” he paused, thinking about that. “Why would Zuko fight another firebender?”

“He did chase down Zhao after the… uh… spirit oasis,” Katara said, stumbling over her words and glancing over at Sokka, a worried look on her face.

Masky had gone tense, pointing at Katara now, clapping his cheeks and then pointing again.

“Wait, is Cheeks Zhao?” Sokka asked, turning to Masky.

Masky nodded vigorously. He pointed to his own chest, made a “look” gesture. _Zuko. Firebend. Zhao._

“You saw Zuko and Zhao fighting,” Sokka said. 

Masky looked like he was ready to hug Sokka for a minute, nodding enthusiastically. It was around this time that Master Pakku returned to the main room from his bedroom, looking almost more irritated than he had when he’d left. “Parchment. Charcoal,” he said, depositing the materials in Masky’s lap and moving to another seat near the fire. “So you saw Zuko and Zhao fight,” he said. “That doesn’t explain how you came here.”

Masky picked up the charcoal and parchment, scribbling in tiny characters at the very top of the sheet. It took Aang a moment to realize why - Master Pakku had said that the supplies were valuable and limited. Masky was trying to show respect by using as little space as possible. That was nice of him! He kept writing for a few moments, then set the charcoal aside gently, looking around the room.

Sokka snatched the parchment from his hands, and for a minute it looked like Masky was going to lunge after it, but he pulled himself back, took a deep breath, and waited for Sokka to read his response aloud. 

“I stowed away on a Fire Navy vessel -” Sokka stopped, turning to stare at Masky. “What, really? How’d you manage that?”

“Sokka, could you finish reading before you start asking more questions?” Katara demanded, craning her neck to try and see what Masky had written. 

Sokka immediately jerked the parchment away, concealing the words. “I’m getting there!” he said. “Just hold on - ahem - I stowed away on a Fire Navy vessel because I heard the attack was being led by Zhao. Hold on, wait, how did you hear _that?”_ he turned to stare at Masky.

Masky shrugged, then made an “I’m listening” gesture with one hand. 

“Yeah, we’ll talk more about that later,” Sokka said, obviously dissatisfied with the answer. “Anyway. I have no love for Zhao and want to ruin his plans - same, buddy,” here Sokka lifted his eyes to grin at Masky, “So I followed him here. That _doesn’t_ explain why you want Zuko and his uncle,” he pointed out.

Masky made a grabby gesture at the parchment, and after a moment’s hesitation, Sokka handed it over. “And tell me more about how you found out about the mission and stowed away on a Fire Navy vessel.”

The scribbling took a bit longer this time, and Aang could see that Masky had written little numbers down before certain parts of the writing. The parchment was handed back to Sokka, who continued his dramatic reading. “One, I want to know why Zhao tried to have Zuko killed - wait, _he did what?”_

Masky glanced between Sokka, Aang, and Katara, pointedly avoiding Master Pakku’s suspicious stare, which had yet to let up since the man had returned with the parchment. As he realized that the waterbending Master seemed more agitated than normal, Aang found himself hoping that everything was all right. He wasn’t sure why Master Pakku was so worried. Masky had helped him once before, and he’d come to help them this time, too! Master Pakku would see that for himself eventually, Aang was sure of it.

“Okay, we will _definitely_ be circling back to _attempted murder,_ but moving on - Two, Fire Nation Sailors like to spend shore leave in taverns. They drink a lot and talk too loudly. Three, Sometimes, drunk Fire Nation Sailors lose their uniforms. They don’t waste a lot of time looking for them, and rarely tell anyone what happened because they’d get in trouble. People don’t usually count the grunts on a large Fire Navy vessel. If you keep your armor on and head down, no one questions you. It _can’t_ be that simple!” Sokka protested, looking up from the parchment. 

In response, Masky simply shrugged as if to say, “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

The amount of emoting he was capable of in a mask was actually really impressive, Aang wished _he_ could communicate so well without his voice. “So why do you hate Zhao so much?” he asked. “Did he do something to you?”

For this, Masky just nodded, but he didn’t make a move to grab the parchment. 

“Do you not want to talk about it?” Katara asked softly, seeing something that Aang must have missed. 

Masky nodded again.

“Okay, well, I’d still like to know about this _murder plot,_ especially considering Zuko was somehow _not dead_ and managed to _also_ find his way to the North Pole.” Sokka considered his own statement with a scowl. “How does he keep finding us, anyway?”

Masky shrugged a little, but reached for the parchment a moment later. Sokka handed it over.

* * *

Masky was hiding something. Well, okay, a _lot_ of things, including his _face._ Which was… yeah. Not really something that made Sokka feel inclined to trust him. Plus, the guy acted like he’d been able to take out Fire Nation soldiers, steal their armor, stow away on a ship, and did it all just to come and mess up Zhao’s plans? _Why?_ What could possibly motivate him to go to that extreme? Of course Sokka thought Zhao was a creep and he’d killed the _moon,_ which put him on a whole new level of _creep_ that Sokka hadn’t even realized existed, but still. This was weird. “No seriously though,” he said, “You did all this just to mess with _Zhao?”_

“Sokka!” Katara hissed, “He doesn’t want to talk about it!”

“But there have to be _easier_ ways to mess with Zhao,” Sokka protested, “Why come all the way to the North Pole?”

Masky, who had been scribbling away at his paper, stopped, sighed, and started a new line beneath where he’d been writing. One he’d finished the second line, he went back to the first line. Once he’d finished writing, he handed the parchment back to Sokka.

Which was another thing. The way he wrote looked like someone who wasn’t accustomed to handling charcoal. Which, if he was from the Earth Kingdom, that made some sense, since they largely used brushwork. But his strokes were incredibly neat and even, almost calligraphic. That smacked of nobility to Sokka, and he couldn’t figure out why some noble from the Earth Kingdom would be chasing after Zhao, of all people! As he glanced at the parchment, though, a few answers fell into place.

“I heard he hired pirates to blow up Zuko’s ship.” Sokka stared at the words for a few seconds. “Wow, that sounds like overkill,” he managed after a moment. “How did Zuko survive something like _that?”_

Masky shrugged in answer, which was fair. Sokka couldn’t figure out how someone could survive that either. But he apparently _had_ survived, and made it all the way to the North Pole, too. So he’d either gotten really lucky, or he’d somehow figured out Zhao’s plot in advance and faked his death. Considering Zuko’s record, Sokka was going to go with _lucky,_ because the guy managed to stumble across them constantly. That had to be luck. As much as he hated to wish _death_ on someone, he sort of wished that Zuko hadn’t made it out of the explosion unscathed. Maybe if he’d been off recovering somewhere…

…but Zuko hadn’t been the one to kill the moon, and he’d gone after Zhao while his uncle had gone after all the other fire benders. They hadn’t seemed like they were fighting _with_ Zhao, at least. Which made sense, if Zhao really had been trying to assassinate the angry ponytail guy.

“Is that all?” Katara asked, leaning over to look at the parchment, reminding Sokka that he’d lost track of what he was supposed to be doing.

“I’m getting to it!” Sokka glanced back down at the parchment. Oh. He swallowed hard, then read the second sentence. “Zhao… destroyed my home. And… separated me from the only family I had left.” He looked up at Masky, then read the last line he’d written. “That’s why I broke into his stronghold to free the Avatar, and it’s why I followed him here. I wanted revenge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one came out a bit late, I've been struggling with some writer's block lately and my health hasn't been the best. The semester is almost over, though, so hopefully with that on the horizon I'll find a bit more time to do some writing.  
> Honestly I did not expect it to take this long for the Blue Spirit to end up chilling with the Gaang, and we still haven't even managed to leave the North Pole... I don't know why I expected this to be easy, though, Zuko loves to make things difficult.  
> EDIT: So I'm a fool who thought that Onsenzakura was the name of the Fire Nation spa that Zuko and Iroh visited in S2 E1, but it turns out it doesn't have a name and I just arbitrarily stole the name Onsenzakura from Vathara, who wrote the fantastic fic "Embers" (seriously, go read it). So Uh. I don't own Onsenzakura and I uh.... stole it. Sorry. Hope that's ok. I might go back and change it, tbh  
> Thanks to everyone who's commented so far, I hope you liked this chapter, too, dialogue-heavy though it may have been.  
> Writing Zuko CharadesTM is one of my new favorite things, though. So expect more of that, haha.


	6. Names and Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gaang invites "Masky" to join them on their trip. Pakku is unimpressed.

Zuko could feel beads of sweat rolling down his spine. He wasn’t  _ good _ at this. Azula was so good at lying she could twist any information to suit her purpose without thinking twice. Zuko, on the other hand, had never been very adept at spinning falsehoods. In answering the questions the Avatar and his friends had posed to him, he’d tried as best he could to stick to something close to the truth. Yes, he’d come here for the Avatar, but revenge on Zhao had been on his mind, too. Zhao  _ had _ blown up his home - his ship - and separated him from the only family member he’d been allowed to see during his banishment - uncle - and Zuko  _ had _ broken into Pohai stronghold to free the Avatar so that Zhao would fail. Mostly because Zuko could only succeed if Zhao didn’t, but the point still stood. His fingers were smudged black from the charcoal, and he was beginning to wonder if they’d all forgotten that they’d asked his name and hadn’t bothered to figure out his answer yet. 

On the other hand, it made sense. After all, Zuko was hardly one to ask names first and information second - he still didn’t know the names of waterbender girl and boomerang boy, after all (had he overheard them before? Probably, at some point, he just hadn’t made a point of remembering them). So he really didn’t have a leg to stand on in the  _ introductions _ department. 

“I’m really sorry about your family,” the waterbender girl said softly, her eyes sincere.  _ How? _ She barely knew Zuko - or, technically, the masked person that Zuko was pretending to be - and yet she seemed to show genuine compassion and sympathy for his (mostly imaginary though technically real) plight. “How long have you been on your own?”

Okay. Well, technically he’d had Uncle with him most of the time, but if he dropped a phrase like “uncle” now, with the knowledge that he’d been looking for Zuko and Zuko’s uncle still fresh in their minds… Zuko shrugged, choosing silence for the moment. Water Tribe Brother handed the parchment back to him, then. After thinking for a minute, Zuko decided he wasn’t going to write anything more until he was asked another question. Hopefully the last one he could get away with shrugging off. 

“So…how are you going to get back?” the Avatar asked, when it became clear Zuko wasn’t going to answer the girl’s question.

“Yes,” Master Pakku spoke up for the first time from where he’d settled on a fur, glowering at Zuko since the conversation started. “How  _ are _ you going to get back?”

_ Uncle thinks you’re going to give him a raft, _ Zuko thought viciously, though he didn’t say anything for a long moment. How  _ was _ he going to get back? Cautiously, he picked up his charcoal and scribbled out the words,  _ I didn’t think that far ahead. _

The boomerang guy took it and read it aloud, then gave Zuko a  _ look. _ “You planned how to get  _ in, _ but not  _ out?” _ he demanded.

“Now that I think of it, you didn’t really have a plan for getting out of Zhao’s fortress, either,” the Avatar said. “I guess plans aren’t really your thing, huh?”

Zuko fought the urge to yell about that - after all, they were right, as much as he hated to admit it. The fact that Uncle was probably listening in on this exact conversation at the very moment and nodding in agreement was not lost on Zuko. Feeling deflated, Zuko just nodded. He didn’t really have a good answer, and he wasn’t going to waste parchment on a dumb excuse like ‘I was just winging it’. 

“You can come with us, then!” the Avatar exclaimed.

Zuko and Master Pakku  _ both _ whirled on him at the exact same time _. _ Master Pakku looked like he was contemplating hitting  _ his _ head on something hard, now. “Avatar Aang,” he said, “Why would you even  _ consider _ such a thing?”

“Well,” the Avatar explained matter-of-factly, “He doesn’t have a way out, and we were planning on leaving tomorrow anyway. So he can just ride with us!”

“I see,” Master Pakku looked as though he’d eaten a too-sour sea prune. “And what of his mission to find Prince Zuko and his uncle?”

“That part’s easy,” the airbender said with exuberance. “Prince Zuko  _ always _ shows up sooner or later. I’m sure he’ll find us again eventually.”

As charming as the Avatar’s reassurance was, Zuko couldn’t help notice that he did  _ not _ have the ability to be in more than one place at once. After a moment, he began scribbling on the parchment again.  _ Actually, I have some extended family living near the Earth Kingdom port of Onsenzakura, _ Zuko lied, recalling the port that Iroh had planned to reach with Master Pakku’s totally-not-suspicious offer of a raft and supplies.  _ From there, I should be fine. _ He handed the parchment back to Sokka, who read it.

“Onsenzakura is pretty close to here,” Sokka said, “And it’s on our way to Omashu.” 

Master Pakku was  _ looking _ at Zuko now, his eyes sharp. He  _ definitely _ knew. Inwardly, Zuko scowled. He thought Zhao would have cleared up some loose ends, but instead he was leaving even more loose ends behind. Though, to be fair, if Uncle hadn’t holed himself up in this waterbending master’s bedroom, he probably wouldn’t have found the idea suspicious. Of course, Zuko wouldn’t have had the idea for Onsenzakura, either. 

“Why didn’t you go there first?” Waterbender girl asked. “I mean, if you knew you still had family, why didn’t you go to them?” 

Zuko felt his heart stall. He didn’t have a ready answer for that. Onsenzakura was just an excuse, he could feel his palms start sweating, and he had to actively remind himself  _ not _ to firebend as he took a calming breath. 

“He said he wanted  _ revenge, _ Katara,” Boomerang pointed out, then turned to Zuko. “Did you get your revenge?”

Zuko considered that question, and finally made a noncommittal gesture by extending his palm and tilting it back-and-forth gently. The young water tribesman quickly pressed the parchment back into his hands. 

_ I didn’t have first claim, _ Zuko wrote quickly.  _ The ocean spirit took him. I’m sure he more than earned it, though. _

When the boomerang guy read the words aloud, Zuko saw their faces all go  _ still, _ even Master Pakku. The Avatar in particular looked ill. “La took  _ Zhao?” _ he asked. “When?”

Zuko took the parchment back from the water tribe brother and scribbled an answer before handing it back - all this dictation was starting to wear on his nerves, but he’d really done this to himself, so he couldn’t exactly complain, could he? 

“After Zuko and Zhao fought, after La came back from the harbor, it grabbed Zhao and dragged him into the canal.” Boomerang turned to stare at Zuko. “You  _ saw that?” _ he asked, and shuddered. “Sounds terrifying.”

_ All of it was terrifying, _ Zuko thought bitterly,  _ my people died by the droves that night. An entire fleet, routed. I don’t even know if any ships survived. All I know is that a precious few soldiers were captured, and for all I know, that’s all that remains of our entire invasion force. It was a stupid idea to enrage the ocean spirit, but those sailors were just following orders, they didn’t attack the moon. Many of them are far more devout than me. Why did La spare  _ me _ and take them? I hate it, I hate it, I… _ Zuko realized, probably too late, that everyone in the room was staring at him again. Spirits, had he firebent by accident? He sniffed surreptitiously, but it was hard to get a scent through the mask. He looked from one side to the other, trying to figure out why he was even  _ more _ of a center of attention than moments previous.

“Sorry,” the water tribe brother said, “of course it was terrible. You don’t need to talk about it anymore, if you don’t want to.”

_ I don’t, _ Zuko thought darkly, nodding his thanks. If he thought too hard about what La - what  _ The Avatar _ had done to his people that night, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fully contain his rage. For now, he would tuck it away with the growing list of other days he pointedly chose to  _ not think about -  _ the day he learned of Lu Ten’s death, the day his mother left, the day he was banished, the day he discovered all those skeletons of women and children in the Western Air Temple…  _ RIGHT, _ those were things he  _ didn’t _ think about, and for  _ good reason. _ Spirits. 

“So, what do you say?” the Avatar asked, turning to Zuko, “Wanna go to the Earth Kingdom with us?”

Master Pakku cleared his throat pointedly. “Might I remind you that you don’t even know this fellow’s  _ name _ yet?”

The non-bender clapped a hand to his forehead. “I  _ knew _ we forgot something!” He winked at Zuko, adding a cheeky, “You just look like such a  _ Masky, _ you know?”

If Zuko never heard the word  _ Masky _ again it would be too soon. He accepted the parchment back anyway, then stared down at it for a moment. A  _ name. _ He hadn’t thought of a  _ name. _ Spirits, he really hadn’t expected to  _ need _ one. Quick, he just needed an Earth Kingdom name.  _ Any _ Earth Kingdom name.

He scribbled something and shoved the parchment back at the non-bender.

“Lee?” the water tribe brother cocked his head, staring at Zuko. “Huh. Interesting.”

Zuko glared at him, which somehow managed to work despite the mask, because the boy lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“What? I was just expecting something more… mysterious.” 

“It’s better than Masky, at least,” Master Pakku muttered under his breath, summarizing Zuko’s own thoughts on the matter. 

“So you’ll come with us?” the Avatar asked, “At least as far as… Onsenzakura?” He made a small face. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a port controlled by the Fire Nation,” the waterbender girl said. “It used to be called something else, but the Fire Nation changed the name when they took over.”

Zuko had never really thought about how frustrating it might be to have your home’s name changed by a conquering nation. He’d always been taught that the Fire Nation was bringing civilization and education and progress to the Earth Kingdom, but now he was thinking about how he might feel if someone tried to change the name of Byakko or Shu Jing. He’d probably like it as much as he liked going by  _ Masky. _ Being given a name without the chance to provide any input was  _ irritating, _ and Zuko felt a momentary stab of sympathy. Maybe the people living there hadn’t liked the name Onsenzakura. Though it was definitely better than  _ Masky. _

“I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be called,” boomerang guy mused, “I think the name was changed before dad was born.” 

“Speaking of names,” Master Pakku said, somewhat imperiously, “I am called Pakku. It is an  _ honor _ to meet you, Lee.”

Oh yeah, the stress on the word  _ honor _ was definitely a jab, and Zuko tried not to stiffen at the pointed language. Fortunately, the others didn’t seem to notice, instead exchanging glances and appearing embarrassed.

“I’m Aang,” the Avatar - Aang, Zuko supposed he should get used to calling him that - introduced himself.

“I’m Katara,” the waterbender said next. “It’s nice to formally meet you, Lee.”

“I’m Sokka,” the brother grinned at Zuko. “Nice to meet you.”

Zuko just nodded to acknowledge the introductions, since he wasn’t about to waste charcoal on something as obvious as  _ Nice to meet you too. _

“If you are hoping to go to Onsenzakura,” Master Pakku said carefully, “Another option would be to accompany myself and my crew part of the way by boat, and I could provide you with a raft for the remainder of your journey.”

“Your crew?” Sokka replied, looking to Master Pakku with a mixture of confusion and concern. “You’re  _ leaving?” _

“Indeed I am,” Master Pakku nodded solemnly. “I’ve decided to go to the South Pole, along with some other benders and healers who wish to join me. It’s time we helped rebuild our sister tribe.”

Katara frowned at that answer. “What about Aang?” she asked, turning to look at the airbender with concern. “He still needs to learn waterbending.”

Master Pakku’s eyes gleamed. “Well, then he’d better get used to calling you Master Katara,” he said. 

“Wait, really?” Aang exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “That’s great!” he beamed. “Congratulations, Katara.” He paused, his grin growing wider. “Or should I say,  _ Master Katara.” _ He bowed dramatically.

“Stop it,” Katara chided, but her face was beaming, too. She turned back to Master Pakku. “You really think I’m a master?”

_ Yes, I really do, _ Zuko thought bitterly, remembering how  _ easily _ she’d bested him in the Spirit Oasis less than two days earlier. He was trying not to think too hard about how Uncle  _ still _ told him he needed to work on his basics, even after  _ years _ of firebending training. It wasn’t as if Uncle was a bad teacher - Zuko was just a bad student. Uncle Iroh was  _ the Dragon of the West - _ an incredibly powerful bender, skilled, knowledgeable, and he had trained countless Fire Nation soldiers in addition to his own son, Lu Ten.

Spirits, that wasn’t something to be thinking about right now. Zuko tried to refocus. Master Pakku was scowling now, pointing out that he wasn’t one to say things if he didn’t mean them, but Zuko was still distracted. Katara had trained with Pakku for a few  _ weeks, _ if that. And she’d already been declared a  _ Master. _ She was like Azula, then. A prodigy. Eyes sliding over to land on Sokka, Zuko felt new kinship with the non-bender. While Zuko was fortunate to be a firebender, he’d never been good enough to impress his father. 

In fact, in his early childhood, Father had been  _ convinced _ that Zuko wasn’t a bender at all, and that conviction had only grown stronger when Zuko turned out to be a late bloomer, his firebending coming a full year later than was expected. That would have been fine, except Azula’s firebending had come  _ early, _ so early that she’d started firebending training even before Zuko did. He still remembered how it felt, to be a non-bender with a powerful prodigy for a sister. 

At least Katara seemed to genuinely care for her brother. Sometimes Zuko wondered if he could honestly say the same for Azula. She cared, probably. She just had a funny way of showing it. 

“So you’re offering to give him a raft?” Sokka was saying then. “To go to Onsenzakura on his own? Doesn’t it make more sense for him to just ride with us?”

Perhaps, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Master Pakku knew  _ exactly _ who Zuko was, and for that reason, he was hesitant to see Zuko ride off  _ together _ with the Avatar. Zuko didn’t blame him - if he were in Master Pakku’s situation, he wouldn’t like to see that, either. The weird thing here was that Master Pakku wasn’t outing him. If he did, it would be over in a second - he was surrounded, Uncle Iroh was in the bedroom, there was no way he’d get out when he’d be facing down  _ two _ master waterbenders and an airbender. Oh, and a boomerang, too, he supposed. That thing had surprised him before, it wouldn’t do to dismiss it now.

“You barely know this man,” Master Pakku pointed out. “How do you know if he is an  _ honorable _ ally?”

Zuko gritted his teeth, ignoring the jab. It was true, though. He was banished. By default, the implication of that situation was that he had no honor. But Zuko  _ always _ fought to regain that honor, and he  _ would _ earn it back one day. If he acted like a man without honor, he wouldn’t deserve to have his honor returned, even if he  _ did _ capture the Avatar. Uncle always said that honor was like a conviction held in your heart, it is only visible in the times when you must choose to act, but it is always with you. Zuko still wasn’t  _ entirely _ sure he understood what Uncle meant by that, to be honest. But he figured it had something to do with _ integrity, _ which was another one of Uncle’s favorite things to talk about. Zuko basically figured that Uncle saw honor as a daily choice, rather than something you  _ earned. _ But if that was the case, Father wouldn’t have sent Zuko on this quest! So honor had to be more than a choice, because it was something he could  _ lose. _ And he needed to get it back.

“He saved me from Zhao!” Aang protested.

“He did so out of selfish ambition,” Master Pakku reminded him. “He said as much himself.”

“He came here to help,” Aang added, though his eyes looked a little worried, now. 

“He came for revenge,” Sokka countered.

“But he…” Aang turned to Zuko, then, his gray eyes pleading. “Tell them you’re a good guy!”

Spirits. He  _ couldn’t. _ He  _ wasn’t _ . Not the way the Avatar meant it, anyway. Sokka was pressing the parchment back into his hands, though, and Zuko stared at the page for a moment before slowly beginning to write.

* * *

Sokka almost felt bad, watching the way Lee’s shoulders had hunched up as Master Pakku had pointed out they really didn’t  _ know _ this guy. There was something else there, like Master Pakku knew more about this guy than he was letting on. Sokka wasn’t sure why he would be so cagey about it, though. How did he know this guy, and if he  _ did _ know him, why was he taking such a roundabout way of discouraging Aang? All it seemed to have done was distress Aang and stress out Lee, who was scribbling away at the parchment. 

A moment later, Lee handed the parchment to Sokka, for him to dictate. Oh. Okay, Sokka had  _ not _ been expecting  _ that _ response. “I’m not a good guy,” Sokka read carefully. “I did come for revenge, and I didn’t free you from the Fire Nation stronghold because I’m some amazing person. I did it for myself, for personal reasons, not for some abstract concept like the greater good.” Sokka paused, glancing around the room to let that sink in. Pakku looked surprised, like he hadn’t been expecting this answer at all. Katara was evaluating Lee with her sharp gaze, looking for something, though Sokka wasn’t sure what she’d be able to find with the blue and white mask obscuring his features. Aang just looked sad, his puppy-dog eyes in full force as he looked at Lee like he’d taken away his glider or something. “I haven’t given you a good reason to trust me or my word. But I promise, if you help me get out of this city and to Onsenzakura, I won’t cause you any trouble for the duration of the journey.”

“You  _ promise,” _ Master Pakku repeated, savoring the word like it left a peculiar taste in his mouth. “You give your word? You would stake your honor on it?”

That was the  _ third _ time Master Pakku had brought up the word  _ honor _ in as many minutes, and it was beginning to tickle at Sokka’s brain like maybe there was a connection there that he wasn’t making, for some reason. 

Lee turned to face Master Pakku and nodded slowly. 

“Excellent, I’ll be sure to prepare the raft for our departure tomorrow,” Master Pakku said, rising. 

“Wait!” Aang exclaimed, turning to Lee. “Come with us! You said we don’t trust you, but that’s because we don’t really know you! This could be a great chance to get to know you better!”

For some reason, Lee looked to Master Pakku, as if asking permission. Then again, he was the one to convince, since Master Pakku was clearly against Lee riding with them, for some reason. Sokka wished he knew why. He had a feeling if he could just sit down and think it through he might come up with the answer.

Finally, letting out a loud sigh, Master Pakku relented. “Fine. Take…  _ Lee… _ with you.” He said  _ Lee _ the same way he’d said  _ Masky, _ as if it physically pained him to use the name. Which didn’t make sense, unless Master Pakku already knew Lee’s name, and his name wasn’t Lee? Which would explain why he didn’t trust the guy, if he knew he was already lying about his name. Oh, Sokka was liking this whole situation less and less. 

Katara was already going over to Lee, asking him, “Do you have a bag somewhere?”

Lee  _ shook his head. _ How.  _ How _ did someone make it all the way to the Northern Water Tribe with nothing but the clothes on his back? “Did you lose it?” Sokka asked, as this was the only sensible response he could formulate at the moment.

Lee nodded. 

Okay. That made a little more sense than  _ stowing away on a Fire Navy Ship with absolutely nothing. _ Also, now that he was thinking about it… “Where’d you get the parka and boots?” Sokka asked. “And where’d you put the Fire Nation armor?”

Lee picked up the parchment and scribbled his answer, handing it to Sokka a few moments later while they all stared at him, waiting. This was starting to get annoying, but it was loads faster than trying to figure out the guy’s gestures, so… Sokka accepted the parchment. They’d filled about two thirds of the sheet at this point, and Sokka wondered if Pakku would be willing to give them another sheet for the flight to the Earth Kingdom. Shaking the thought aside, he read aloud. “I left the ship with one of the away parties. Snuck off, threw the armor into the water to hide it, and then picked through one of the busted buildings, since it turned out to be a clothing store.” Sokka scowled. “Wait, so you  _ stole _ those clothes?”

Lee nodded once.

“You’ll give them back, though, right?” Aang piped up. 

Lee shrugged. 

He had a point, though Sokka hated to admit it. It wasn’t like Lee had any other clothes lying around. “We’ll pay for them,” Sokka decided, turning to Master Pakku. “Do you know whose store it might have been?”

Master Pakku eyed the clothing with a critical eye. “I have a few ideas,” he said finally. “I’ll ask around.”

Lee was grabbing for the parchment, but Sokka tugged it away. “Not yet, we’re still talking,” he groused, “How are you going to pay for the clothes if you don’t have anything?” he asked. “It’s not like we have time to sit around and let you work it off, we have to go to the Earth Kingdom and you have to find your family.”

Lee snatched at the parchment again, but Sokka just pulled it back again. “Look, this is a limited resource, okay, we don’t really  _ need _ an answer to these questions yet, we’re still working it out - hey!” 

Lee had somehow managed to slither his other arm around Sokka’s head and snatch the parchment back. It was amazing how indignant he managed to look while wearing a mask. Pausing briefly to glare at Sokka, the masked… (vigilante? That seemed like an apt description.) The masked vigilante scrawled on the paper, pointedly writing the words so tiny he seemed to really struggle to keep them legible. When Sokka took the parchment back, he had to hold it really close to his face to be able to read it. He grudgingly admired Lee’s passive aggressive message in the size of the text before actually reading the response. “If you tell me where to meet you later, I’ll pay you back…” Sokka looked up. “But you’re going to Onsenzakura! To be with your family!”

Lee shrugged lightly, and Sokka had a sneaking suspicion that whatever “family” Lee had in the Earth Kingdom, they must not be very close, if Lee hadn’t bothered trying to convince any of them to join his revenge. Maybe he was lying, and he didn’t have any family in Onsenzakura at all. Maybe he just didn’t want to spend any more time in their group than he had to in order to get out of the city. Fair enough, not everyone was cut out for the high-flying adventures of traveling with the Avatar. It was surprisingly decent of him not to say it outright, though. 

“Right, okay, so we’re probably going to be in Omashu for awhile,” Sokka said. “Maybe you could meet us there.”

Lee nodded slowly.

“Great!” Sokka turned. “Well, the rest of us need to get packed, you can stay the night with us.”

“Actually,” Master Pakku interrupted, “I’d like to have a word with Lee, he may stay with me for the evening. We’ll meet you in the morning, when you depart.”

Aang, Sokka, and Katara exchanged looks. “Okay,” Aang finally agreed. “If that’s all right with you, Lee?”

Lee looked distinctly uncomfortable - again, an impressive thing considering he was  _ masked - _ but he nodded.

“Great!” Aang exclaimed. “See you tomorrow, then!”

Sokka wasn’t so sure. The way Master Pakku was watching Lee, he had half a suspicion that they  _ wouldn’t _ see him. But that was a worry for tomorrow Sokka to deal with. Tonight Sokka was getting hungry, and if he waited much longer, his stomach was going to start making weird noises. Best to be going, then. “Right, see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Lee,” Katara said. “Don’t keep him up too late with your questions, Master Pakku,” she added, sending a suspicious look in the elder’s direction.

“I assure you, he will be well rested by morning,” Master Pakku replied with only a hint of irritation. 

“Good,” Katara replied, nodding sharply. 

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you!” Aang said to Lee, excitement brimming in his voice. 

“I’m looking forward to dinner,” Sokka said, hoping to hurry everyone along. “See you tomorrow, Lee.” It felt weird for him to say it now, too, since he had started wondering if it really was the guy’s name. Still, there were plenty of reasons to hide a name. Who was to say Lee was hiding his name for a  _ bad _ reason? Maybe he had a good reason to be a secretive, thieving sneaky guy who came all the way to the North Pole just for revenge on a single firebender…

Oh. Spirits. Sokka stopped in the middle of the doorway, causing Katara to nearly trip over him. He ignored her irritated chiding as they all moved into the street and headed back to their own rooms. Not because he thought he  _ deserved _ the tongue lashing, but because suddenly his brain was whirling at top speed, and Sokka didn’t have the time to spare an ear to hear her complaints. He had realized who it was that ‘Lee’ kept reminding him of. 

It had taken a while, mainly because their demeanor and attitudes were so different, but this guy was like  _ Jet! _ He didn’t follow the rules, made fighting the Fire Nation seem glamorous, took unnecessary risks, and would go to extremes to get his revenge. At least he didn’t seem like someone who would blow up a dam to flood an unsuspecting town of Fire Nation civilians…

But then, Jet hadn’t really seemed the type, either. Sokka was going to be keeping a close eye on ‘Lee’. Jet had fooled Katara and Aang before, too. Sokka had to be the responsible one, and if that meant treating ‘Lee’ with just a  _ bit _ more suspicion than the other two? Well, better to be safe than sorry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to decide if this was going to be a short update or a long update, and decided to make it a long update. This is mostly because it's taken these kids SIX CHAPTERS just to invite Zuko to join them for the ride to the Earth Kingdom. I expected this part to take one, maybe two chapters when I first thought of this story idea. So uh. Yeah.   
> We're finally on our way! Just a few more scenes to go, and then the true canon divergence can get underway.  
> I should specify for those wondering - no, Zuko is not going to be a permanent part of the Gaang, at least, not yet. But he will be developing a closer relationship with them a lot sooner than he did in the show, which will inevitably lead to some canon divergence as we go on.  
> I haven't decided yet whether this fic will go all the way through book 2 or 3 or really where it's going to end at all, so we'll just keep sort of moving forward as I figure out the plot. My outline ends after Onsenzakura, so I should probably start working on outlining this fic a bit more. (haha. Because outlining "the first two chapters" worked so well...)  
> Anyway, thanks to everyone for your support and lovely comments! Feel free to also come talk to me on my tumblr, ask me questions, send me headcanons, or even float some prompts my way. I have a few ideas for other ATLA fics floating around in my brain, though none are at a stage where I've started writing them yet. So you never know, your headcanon/prompt/ask just might kick-start something. :) You can find me at vulcan-highblood.tumblr.com


	7. Plans and Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Pakku have a talk. Aang and Appa have a talk. Sokka and Chief Arnook share a moment of understanding.

Zuko waited uncomfortably until the others left, their voices trailing off into the distance. Once they seemed to be gone, Master Pakku turned to Zuko with a sigh and a nasty look on his face. “You may remove your mask now, Prince Zuko.”

Agni! Zuko had a suspicion that Pakku knew something, but to be seen through so completely was something of a blow to his ego. But then, the man had Uncle in his bedroom the whole time, and Zuko couldn’t leave without him. Master Pakku probably had some sinister scheme he was cooking up, and he was likely planning to take advantage of Uncle’s good nature. Now Zuko was caught in the middle of it. He didn’t really have any other option, though, especially since Master Pakku had made it perfectly clear that his disguise only continued for as long as he allowed it to.

Scowling, he untied his mask and removed it. “What do you want?” he asked, trying to sound as cold and deadly as he could manage. He wasn’t sure if he accomplished that, but at least his voice didn’t shake as he stared down a master waterbender when he was _surrounded by ice._ “Why is Uncle here?”

“Simple,” Master Pakku replied. “He came to me for help.”

“For _help?”_ Zuko scoffed. “What help could he get from you?”

Master Paku’s face twitched a little. “He was a firebender combatant in the middle of the Northern Water Tribe on the eve of an attack. I gave him a place to lie low and wait out the trouble, if nothing else.” He narrowed his eyes to stare pointedly at Zuko. “Surely you can relate to needing a way to hide, or you wouldn’t be wearing… that,” he gestured at Zuko’s furs. 

He had a point. Zuko didn’t really want to dwell on that, though, so he pressed for more information. “How did he know to look for you?” he asked. “Do all old people just know each other, or something?”

Master Pakku sniffed. “Hardly,” he said. “I met your Uncle years ago, when he came to visit the spirit oasis, and meditate.”

 _Uncle_ knew _about the spirit oasis? The fish?_ Zuko’s shock must have been plain on his face, because Master Pakku nodded slowly.

“Your Admiral Zhao was not the first of the Fire Nation to know of such a holy place,” Master Pakku’s blue eyes glinted like shards of deadly ice. “He was simply the first man foolish enough to think he could kill a Great Spirit and live to tell the tale.”

Zuko swallowed hard, fighting the urge to say _he was never_ my _Admiral,_ mostly because he was a _Prince,_ and as such, the actions of his people reflected on him and his leadership. He was the highest ranking member of the Royal household who had been present, and thus, it was his responsibility to ensure that his people behaved appropriately. And Zhao hadn’t. It didn’t matter that Zhao had _never_ shown Zuko the proper respect due a member of the Royal family, he hadn’t even shown _Uncle_ the respect he deserved. Zuko fought down the bitterness at that thought - banished or not, Zhao should have _listened_ to him, listened to Uncle, and when he had chosen to ignore them, to act without the blessing of his superiors, his actions had brought great tragedy to the Fire Nation and utter destruction to the Northern Fleet. But ultimately, the weight of that mistake, that tragedy? It rested on Zuko’s shoulders. Zhao was _his_ Admiral, he _should_ have been in charge. It was his fault that the fleet was…

“So you met Uncle many years ago,” Zuko said, forcing himself to refocus on the current conversation.

“Yes,” Master Pakku said, the sour look on his face easing slightly. “I didn’t know who he was, at first, but I know a broken man when I see one.”

 _A broken man…?_ Realization struck Zuko suddenly. That was why Uncle had taken so long to return to the Fire Nation after his defeat at Ba Sing Se! He’d come here! But _why?_ “I see,” Zuko said stiffly, well aware that Uncle was still in the other room and unwilling to bring up such a painful topic. “You knew he was a member of the Fire Nation, though?”

“Surprising as it may seem,” Master Pakku snapped, “I do not believe all people of the Fire Nation are evil. I have a problem with _invasion fleets,_ but a lone, haunted man seeking answers? It would have been a greater sin to turn him away.”

Zuko considered that. He’d met so many people in his hunt for the Avatar that hated the Fire Nation so deeply that they never even bothered to learn the names of the Fire Nation people in their midst, much less hear their stories. There was a reason why so many urchins lived on the streets of Fire Nation colonies. Fire-born brats were often turned out of their homes and villages, and they had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else would welcome them. Zuko had always written it off as a resistance to change, a rejection of the knowledge and civilization that the Fire Nation was bringing to the world. But he hadn’t realized how deeply that rejection had pained him, until he sat here before a master waterbender with every reason to hate the Fire Nation, calmly explaining that he had _accepted_ a sad, heartbroken old man who had given up _everything_ for his nation, and had nothing to show for it but loss. “I see,” Zuko said again.

Master Pakku tilted his head at this, his bright blue eyes boring into Zuko with a gaze so piercing it almost burned. “I almost think you do,” he said, his tone so shockingly warm after all the barbed words that it left Zuko reeling. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, wincing internally at his loss of composure. “So Uncle said you were going to give him a raft. You really meant that?”

“Yes, nephew, he really meant it,” came a soft voice from behind Zuko.

“Uncle!” Zuko turned around, unable to keep the reflexive smile from his face. He fought the expression back a moment later, unwilling to let Master Pakku see his reaction. 

Uncle Iroh settled down on the furs beside Zuko. “The Avatar’s insistence on accompanying you does complicate matters somewhat.”

Master Pakku’s moustache appeared to bristle along with the rest of him. “I’d say it complicates matters rather more than merely _somewhat.”_

“Not necessarily,” Uncle Iroh mused. “If the Avatar were to accompany you on your boat?”

Master Pakku blinked. “You realize we would not be welcome at a Fire Nation port like Onsenzakura,” he said in a low tone.

“Of course not,” Uncle replied, “But if you were to stay near enough for the sky bison to fly a round trip…”

“So the three of them fly with your _nephew_ to Onsenzakura, then the three of them rejoin our fleet until they reach the port nearest to Omashu,” Master Pakku stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose I could spare one of our extra lifeboats, and you could make your way in from there.”

Uncle nodded, clapping a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “If it takes me longer than two days, I am certain my nephew will come looking for me. Look how quickly he found me in this city. I am certain the ocean himself could not hide me from Zuko when he is determined.”

Zuko pointedly did _not_ think about what the Ocean could or could not do. He’d seen La do plenty, and he was more than certain that if the Great Spirit wanted his Uncle, there was very little he could do about it. After all, he certainly hadn’t been able to save Zhao from his watery fate, nor the Northern Fleet - ! But he _wasn’t thinking about that now._ Shaking his head sharply, Zuko pointed at Uncle. “How is he supposed to hide on your ship?” he demanded.

Master Pakku lifted his eyebrows in Zuko’s direction. “What makes you think you’re the only one who knows how to stow away? Do you think he came here on a Navy ship the last time he visited?”

Zuko blinked hard, considering the question. “You stowed away on a _Water Tribe_ ship?” he demanded, turning to glare at Uncle.

“Of course not, Prince Zuko,” Uncle Iroh assured him. “I stowed away on an Earth Kingdom merchant vessel. They make regular trips between here and Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko didn’t want to think about how in _Agni’s flame_ Uncle Iroh had managed to sneak onto a _merchant vessel_ what was probably mere weeks after the conclusion of his failed siege. If they’d caught him… He stared at Master Pakku. If Master Pakku _had_ turned Uncle Iroh over to the merchants, rather than welcoming him into the city… they would have to know, they _had_ to have known who he was. And he would have been _killed,_ if not worse! Zuko felt a sudden urge to grab Uncle Iroh and shake him for being so _stupid._ What had his plan been if he’d been caught? Kill them all and sail the ship himself? Jump overboard and swim back to the Earth Kingdom? (Die?) “And you lecture _me_ about not making plans,” he snapped, the shard of fear melting into that familiar anger that always seemed to be boiling inside him. 

“Perhaps I teach you in the hopes that you might avoid the mistakes I myself have already made,” Uncle Iroh replied, giving Zuko a patient look.

Zuko took a deep breath, trying to cool the churning fury back down to a low simmer of frustration. It took _several_ deep breaths. “Okay, so he stows away on the ship and I… what, I’m an invited guest?” he glanced at Master Pakku, not quite sure he believed such a thing was possible.

“If you will honor our bargain not to injure or incapacitate the Avatar for the duration of the journey, then yes. You will be an invited guest,” Master Pakku answered.

He didn’t have a ship or any way of getting the Avatar _back_ to the Fire Nation, his ribs were still smarting, his face looked even worse than usual between the bruises and abrasions. He could bide his time. Besides, with Zhao gone and the fleet in shambles, he had a feeling it might take awhile before he could get a new ship. At least this way, he might be able to gather intel on where they were headed and track them to their next destination. He nodded slowly. “I promise, I will not harm the Avatar or his allies on this journey.”

Master Pakku made a small face. “Of course, I would feel more reassured if I trusted you,” he muttered under his breath.

That smarted. Zuko had no intention of breaking his promise, and knowing that this man thought so little of him was depressing. Zuko shook the thought aside. Why should he _care_ if someone like Master Pakku didn’t trust him? He had no real reason to trust Zuko! 

“Master Pakku,” Uncle Iroh said, in the tone he usually used when harassing Zuko for not making plans, “My nephew is an honorable man. If he gives his word, he will keep it.”

Zuko winced a little, because he knew Uncle was lying. He was still banished, still without honor, until he proved himself to his father. 

Still, the vote of confidence appeared to be enough for Master Pakku, who nodded in Zuko’s direction after a moment of contemplation. “My apologies, Prince Zuko. I will trust your Uncle when he says that you are a man of your word.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said stiffly. He turned to Uncle, then back to Master Pakku. “Is that all?”

“That is all,” Master Pakku confirmed before standing. “Now then,” he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner.”

All of a sudden, Zuko’s stomach remembered how _desperately_ empty it was, and he nodded. 

“We would be most honored to join you for a meal,” Uncle said. “I hope you have sea prunes, they are my favorite.”

“I’ll be sure to add a small bowl,” Master Pakku replied, moving across the room. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll bring the food in just a minute.”

Zuko waited until Master Pakku seemed sufficiently distracted by the food before leaning over and hissing at Uncle. “Can we trust him?”

Uncle gave Zuko one of his _have you thought this question through, nephew?_ looks. “Master Pakku and I have an unusual relationship, considering the turmoil of the world in which we live. I trust him with my life, and more importantly,” Uncle fixed him with a serious expression, “I trust him with _yours._ He is a good man, nephew, and if he says he will help, then he will.”

Zuko nodded. Every fiber of his being was _convinced_ that he couldn’t trust this man, this master waterbender who had so recently fought and imprisoned his own men. But Zuko trusted Uncle, and if Uncle said the man could be trusted… well. Zuko would try. It was the best he could do.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and early. Sleep hadn’t come easily for Aang, and after spending far too many minutes tossing and turning, trying to get back to sleep, a revelation struck. He’d never actually told Chief Arnook that they were leaving. 

“Monkeyfeathers!” Aang exclaimed, sitting straight up, sending the furs he’d been sleeping under flying. 

“Huh-bluh-wuh?” Sokka grunted, struggling to surface from his furs like he was underwater. His eyes were barely half-open and he didn’t seem capable of forming words just yet.

“Oh, sorry Sokka,” Aang apologized, “I just remembered we never told Chief Arnook we were leaving.”

Sokka muttered something equally unintelligible as his last statement, sinking back down into his bedroll and tugging it over his head before his snores resumed mere seconds later. So obviously _he_ wasn’t worried about it.

Katara rolled over to face him, then. She was still wrapped up in her blanket, but her eyes were open and she at least seemed to be fully awake. “We can talk to him after breakfast,” she said, “before we meet Master Pakku.”

“Okay,” Aang said, laying back down and waiting. But Katara didn’t get up, so he guessed that meant that breakfast wouldn’t be for a bit longer, then. Rather than sit around waiting for the two to wake up, or fall asleep only to have more _dreams,_ Aang headed out to check on Appa. 

As he trudged into the icy stable that had been provided, Aang felt a grin tugging at his features. Just seeing Appa made the tension in him loosen a bit. Appa was always there for him, his constant companion and a dear friend. “Hey buddy,” Aang greeted, jogging over to greet him. 

The sky bison looked comfortable, despite being surrounded by ice. But then, Appa was covered in warm fur, so he didn’t get cold very easily. That was good, because they’d spent a pretty long time in the Northern Water Tribe, and Aang didn’t like it when Appa felt uncomfortable. 

“Good morning,” he greeted, patting Appa’s head before curling up against his side, the tension in him easing away as he sank into the soft, warm fur. “How are you doing?”

Appa rumbled low, and Aang could feel the way the sky bison’s legs curled around him, drawing him in closer. “Haha, yeah,” he said, squirming in as well, “I missed you, too.” He took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of warm bison. It was familiar and comforting, one of the few things in his life that had remained constant after his 100 year absence. “I had a bad dream,” he whispered, so soft that even Appa might have trouble hearing him, “about the Avatar state.”

Appa rumbled again, a comforting sound. Aang turned his head in towards Appa’s side, burying his face in the thick, shaggy fur. “I hate it,” he whispered softly. “I could _feel_ La’s anger, Appa. Feel it inside me. But it was more than that. It’s taken me a while to figure out why it bothers me so much, and I think I figured it out. When it happens, I don’t feel… human.” 

Sighing gustily, Aang pushed back, eyeing Appa appraisingly. “Then again, I bet you don’t feel human, either. But imagine if you were suddenly…” he gestured abstractly. “What if your mind wasn’t just _yours,_ but also had the minds of _so many other people_ in it, but none of them were _quite_ people anymore, and you have this nagging feeling, this - this _dread_ that maybe _you_ aren’t quite a person anymore, either?” He buried his face in Appa’s fur again. “The Avatar is the bridge to the spirit world,” he said, so softly that he _knew_ Appa wouldn’t be able to hear. “I think I understand a little better what that means,” he added, still speaking to the fluff. “It means I’m not a spirit.” He leaned back then, gazing into Appa’s face, his chest clutching tight as he continued. “But I think it means I’m also not completely human, either.” 

Appa rumbled again, butting his head against Aang ever-so-gently, as if to tell him to stop worrying so much. 

Aang released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, leaning back against the sky bison’s flank, just breathing with him for a long moment. “I know, buddy.” He smiled weakly, patting Appa’s furry side. “Thanks for listening.”

* * *

By the time Aang returned from wherever he’d been, Sokka had almost convinced himself that the airbender _probably_ wouldn’t mind sharing his breakfast. But Sokka had already convinced Katara to let him eat “Aang’s” portion of seal-jerky (not all that hard, since the monk was a vegetarian and they both knew he wouldn't have eaten it anyway), and he didn’t feel like pushing his luck so early in the morning. 

“Aang! Are you packed?” Sokka demanded as soon as the airbender wandered back in. 

“Yeah, I finished that last night,” Aang replied. “We just have to go talk to the Chief and then go meet Master Pakku, right?”

“Right,” Sokka agreed. 

“Wow!” Aang commented, sitting down and picking up his plate of food. “Thanks for breakfast, Katara!”

“You’re welcome!” Katara answered, depositing an armload of bags into Sokka’s lap. “Help me carry these,” she told him. “We should get Appa loaded up now so that after meeting with the Chief we’ll be ready to go.”

Sokka, having barely managed to catch the pile before it landed on a distinctly _sensitive_ region of his lap, sent her a glare. “Fine, just let me excavate myself out from under this _avalanche_ of bags.”

“Oh please, stop whining!” Katara groused. “Besides, half of it is _your_ seal jerky!”

Suddenly, Sokka was remarkably less displeased by the situation. “Really?”

“Yeah, the owner of the supply shop recognized me and offered me a discount!” Katara beamed. “I got a great deal on _all_ our supplies, actually!”

“Atta girl!” Sokka crowed, proud on behalf of his little sister. Sokka could appreciate the art of a great bargain, and he was sure she’d haggled well. “In that case, since you put so much work into stocking up, I guess I’ll carry these out.”

“Thank you,” Katara said primly, but her face was barely hiding a smile.

Sokka grinned back, and felt a little bloom of pride when her straight face broke, revealing a sunny smile of her own. Heh. Still got it. He lugged the bags out, carrying them over to Appa, who greeted him with a loud roar. Sokka still wasn’t quite used to that, as typically animals that made noises that loud seemed like they should have sharp teeth, too. “Hey big guy,” he greeted. “Got some bags here to load up. We’ll be heading out soon!”

Appa rumbled back, and Sokka took a moment to pause and realize he was now talking to the animal like it understood him. Aang was rubbing off on him, for sure. With a half-hearted scowl, Sokka stowed the bags before heading out, telling Appa goodbye before he left. Sure, he’d thought it was weird the way Aang talked to him at first, but over time he’d come to realize that Appa was really intelligent, so he didn’t see the harm in exchanging pleasantries. Occasionally though, it still hit him how weird that was. He was coming to terms with it.

By the time he’d made it back, Katara and Aang had the rest of the bags gathered up and ready to go. They made a quick stop to drop off their bags with Appa, and then headed in the direction of Chief Arnook’s residence. It didn’t take them long, really, and when they arrived, the place seemed to be filled with a flurry of activity.

“Ah, just the trio I was hoping to see,” Chief Arnook said, walking over to greet them before they had time to so much as get their bearings. “I heard you were leaving?”

Oof. “Yes, sir,” Sokka said, “We were going to come thank you for your hospitality…”

“I appreciate it,” Chief Arnook said, then gestured for the door. “If you don’t mind, I would like to accompany you to the docks.”

“Oh,” Sokka glanced at Aang in surprise. Aang shrugged, so Sokka turned back to the Chief. “It would be an honor.”

They headed out together, and Sokka wasn’t sure exactly how to react to the situation. He knew, on an instinctual level, that technically he was the son of the Southern Tribe’s chief, and so that supposedly made him at least _close_ in rank to Chief Arnook, but it was also clear that the Southern Tribe wasn’t seen as much more than backcountry ruffians by most of the people here, which made things a bit murkier. Plus, while Sokka had gone ice-dodging, he still felt as though they treated him like a _child,_ which further complicated matters.

“You heard that Master Pakku is taking a group of waterbenders to aid in the rebuilding of the Southern Tribe?” Chief Arnook asked pleasantly, the first thing that had been said since they’d left his home nearly three minutes ago.

“Oh, yes!” Katara exclaimed excitedly, “We’re glad to hear it. It’s a kind gesture.”

“I’m glad to hear you think so,” Chief Arnook said, his facial expression softening as he glanced at her, before a sad look crossed his features. “It should have happened a long time ago, but I’m afraid I was too blind to see the damage caused by our people’s isolationism.”

“It was defensive,” Sokka said, not sure why he was defending the Chief’s own decision to him. Surely the man had the right to criticise his own decisions. “We don’t blame you.”

“Perhaps not,” Chief Arnook agreed, “But maybe you should.”

“I don’t think that trying to shift the blame around helps anyone,” Aang spoke up, his voice somewhat subdued. “Monk Gyatso always said that we must accept what _is,_ not trouble ourselves asking what _was_ or what _could have been._ If we want to create a brighter future, we must learn to release a darker past.” 

“That’s very profound,” Katara said, sounding impressed. 

“Yeah, but I don’t think the monks agreed,” Aang added flippantly, “Every time I tried to convince them that they needed to live in the now and let go of the darker past of when I threw fruit pies at them, they didn’t seem to like the idea.”

Chief Arnook laughed outright, followed by a look of surprise crossing his features, like he hadn’t realized he _could_ laugh anymore. The realization of why he felt that way twisted through Sokka’s stomach, and his own laugh died in his throat. 

“It sounds like living in the present is a difficult task for even the wisest of leaders,” Chief Arnook observed, his voice carefully neutral. 

“I think so,” Aang agreed. “Especially when you’re covered in pie filling.”

Chief Arnook and Sokka exchanged a glance, and he knew that the Chief hadn’t been talking about the monks. Rather than commenting, he nodded his head, to show that he, at least, understood what the Chief had been referencing. 

Living in the present had never been this hard for Sokka, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry I missed a week, but finals are ROUGH and I had SO MUCH GRADING to do. Anway, I'm down to the last few essays to grade and most of my class grades have already been submitted, so I had a bit of a break to write this chapter, finally!!
> 
> Thanks again to all of you for your support and feedback, I really appreciate it! Hopefully I'll be back on schedule with a new chapter for you by next week! :D


	8. Hidden and Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is having a rough time aboard the water tribe's ship. He's not the only one.

Master Pakku didn’t seem  _ pleased _ by Zuko’s Blue Spirit getup, but he had grudgingly admitted that it was a decent disguise that would allow Zuko to leave the North without issue. Uncle had stolen away some time after dawn, and Zuko wasn’t sure he trusted Pakku to sneak him onto his water tribe ship without trouble, but Uncle trusted the waterbending master, and it was too late to worry about anyway. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Master Pakku groused, turning to scowl at Zuko,  _ “Lee.” _

If he kept saying the name like that, the Avatar and his friends would  _ definitely _ suspect something. But Zuko “couldn’t talk”, so all he did was glare at the master waterbender, who seemed completely unfazed by Zuko’s glare.

As they approached the docks, Zuko could see Sokka and another water tribesman talking to one another with solemn expressions. Aang and Katara were watching the boat getting loaded up, but they turned and smiled, waving at Zuko and Pakku as they approached. 

“You made it!” the waterbender said with a smile.

Zuko couldn’t remember  _ ever _ seeing her smile at him before. It was almost unsettling. Since he was in his Blue Spirit gear, he nodded quietly. 

“Have you been on a water tribe boat before?” the Avatar asked him excitedly. “I haven’t. I heard they sleep in hammocks! Have you slept in a hammock?”

There were too many questions in there to know how to answer, especially since Paku hadn’t brought his parchment and charcoal along. Rather than trying to gesture, Zuko shrugged. 

Katara tilted her head to the side, then glanced at Master Pakku. “What about the parchment and charcoal?” she asked. “Did you bring any?”

“Do I look like I have reams of spare parchment and charcoal lying about?” Master Pakku asked, lifting an eyebrow and giving the girl a vaguely displeased look.

“Well how else are we going to communicate with Lee?” Katara demanded, placing her hands on her hips and scowling back at the waterbending master. 

“I don’t know, perhaps he should have considered that before stowing away here,” Master Pakku retorted, tossing a sharp look in Zuko’s direction. 

Zuko fought the urge to growl that he hadn’t  _ planned _ on  _ needing _ to communicate in this getup, but only because he was already basically swallowing his tongue in order to remember not to speak. 

“Let’s get our things loaded up,” the Avatar suggested brightly. “Appa will be following behind the boat, so we can just put all our things on the boat until it’s time to leave.”

Master Pakku gestured generously in the direction of the boat. “Go on, then,” he said. 

After a somewhat awkward Earth-Kingdom style bow that didn’t feel quite right, Zuko followed Aang and Katara up the gangplank and onto the too-small, too-wooden ship. 

They weren’t really going to sleep in hammocks… were they?

* * *

As time wore on, Zuko found himself growing more and more anxious. He couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t risk anyone hearing him, and  _ yes, _ they were meant to sleep in  _ hammocks. _ Surprisingly (though perhaps less surprising now that he was getting to know them), the Avatar and his group had been forthcoming with their travel plans. Apparently, they were going to meet an Earth Kingdom general - General Fong, who was stationed at a base on the Earth Kingdom coast near Omashu. It was about halfway between where Katara had gotten herself imprisoned on a Fire Nation prison barge (and he still had no idea  _ why _ she’d done something like that) and Kiyoshi Island, where he’d been coated in briny Unagi-saliva-laced sea water. It  _ had _ put out the fire, though, which Uncle had been relieved about, and Zuko felt neutral towards, at least later. At the time, he’d been furious about losing the Avatar, again. But he hadn’t really wanted the entire village to lose their homes, not really. 

That was probably related to his planning problem, Zuko mused. He was so quick to jump to a destructive solution, even when it wasn’t a good solution. He always seemed to mess things up, it was amazing he’d made it as far as he had, considering how much he’d screwed up on the way to the North. His lack of plans had even gotten his own ship destroyed. 

The Avatar and his friends had a plan, though. After the meeting with General Fong, they were planning on heading to Omashu. That’s the point where Zuko wasn’t sure what his response would be. He had no ship, and he had no way to contact his father. Once he reached Onsenzakura, he could get a fire hawk and send a message to the Fire Nation, but who knew how long it would take to get a new ship. If he got a new ship at all. Considering their losses in the north… Father had always been hesitant to give him any additional resources. Obviously, he had faith that Zuko could manage on his own, without relying too heavily on his father’s power. At least, that’s what he told himself, because he refused to dwell on the alternative.

The one bright spot in all this was that regardless of resources, he knew where the avatar would be, and that meant he had something to aim for, once he’d regrouped with Uncle in Onsenzakura. He sighed, gazing out at the wide ocean. Out here, it felt like Onsenzakura was impossibly far, even though he knew they should reach it within the next two-to-three days. He continued to gaze out over the ocean, not really thinking about anything, just appreciating the calm water, trying not to think about -

“Hey, Lee!” the Avatar - Aang, he had to keep reminding himself - popped up beside him with a wide grin. “You hungry?”

Turning, Zuko started to shake his head. Almost on cue, his stomach made a rumbling noise and he glanced down at it, mostly irritated. Now he couldn’t even lie about his hunger, and he  _ knew _ that the others would bother him about his mask. They’d done so at the first two meals, so Zuko had taken to eating at odd hours (or, actually, mostly just skipping meals) to avoid the hassle. Slowly turning to Aang, Zuko nodded. He couldn’t exactly fake his way out of a growing stomach, and it wasn’t worth the effort to try.

“Great! We all feel bad about bothering you,” Aang said, “And Sokka said it seemed like you stopped eating? And that’s bad. So I just wanted to make sure you knew that we won’t bother you about your mask anymore.” His eyes were wide and it was easy to read the genuine emotion in them. “Even if we are all  _ really _ curious,” he added in a sing-song tone.

Yes, that glint of mischief was all-too-easy to read in the airbender’s gaze. Zuko sighed heavily, wishing it were easier to facepalm while wearing a carved mask. Instead, he turned and walked for the entrance to the lower decks, where the kitchen, crew quarters, and storage were all located. 

“Because really, I promise we won’t tell anyone!” the Avatar insisted, bouncing behind him. “Are you  _ sure _ you won’t -”

“Aang, we talked about this,” came the sharp, almost accusatory tone from inside the kitchen. Sokka poked his head out of the doorway, spotting the two of them and rolling his eyes at Zuko as if to say  _ Airbenders, amirite? _

Zuko shrugged helplessly in reply.

“So, here’s my thought,” Sokka continued, walking out of the kitchen with two plates piled high with mostly salted dried food and ocean-y flavored green things. And sea prunes. Spirits forbid they forget the sea-prunes. Zuko had changed his mind about them right around meal two on the ship. He’d thought them to be an acquired taste, back in the North when it was ‘eat them or starve’. It turned out the only taste he was acquiring was ‘a food that tastes worse every time you eat it.’ 

“What’s your thought?” Aang asked. “Is it the idea we talked about?”

“Yes,” Sokka said, looking vaguely peeved at having been interrupted. He turned to Zuko, intentionally moving so that Aang was nearly behind him. “We don’t want you feeling so uncomfortable that you don’t eat, so every time Aang asks about your mask, one of us will punch him in the shoulder. I figure it’ll only take about ten punches before he stops.”

“Hey!” Aang protested, “That wasn’t the plan!”

“The plan was to stop bothering him,” Sokka shot back, “but you’ve already mentioned his mask once since then, and that’s just while you two were in earshot!”

Zuko lifted two fingers, and Sokka whirled around to glare at the airbender.

“Aang!” he yelped, “You asked him about it  _ twice _ in the two minutes after we  _ all agreed _ not to ask?” he sounded affronted.

Aang looked confused. “I didn’t ask about it,” he said, “I just reminded him that we were curious and wouldn’t laugh or -”

Sokka  _ did _ facepalm. Zuko tried not to be jealous. He was worried if he slapped a hand to his own forehead with that much force it might end up sending the mask flying. Which would solve the issue of the Avatar’s curiosity, at least, but would leave them all with a  _ much larger issue _ to deal with, one that Zuko was absolutely intent on avoiding altogether. 

“Anyway,” Sokka said, handing Zuko one of the plates, “We’re not going to let him keep bothering you about it.” Sokka laid a friendly hand on Zuko’s shoulder, patting him twice, and (Zuko should have been used to it by now, but he wasn’t. This whole  _ casual touching _ was another Avatar thing that left Zuko feeling uneasy) he stiffened. Sokka shot him a confused look, but said nothing. 

Zuko nodded firmly to Sokka and hoped it seemed like a friendly  _ see you later _ sort of nod as he edged towards the door. At this point, he’d found a few places that were deserted enough to ease his mask up enough to eat, though he hadn’t found the courage to remove it completely since they’d boarded the wooden ship. Master Pakku had been keeping a sharp eye out, too, and he tried his best to avoid the old master waterbender who  _ still _ seemed to distrust Zuko. Which was fair. Zuko wasn’t sure if he would trust an enemy combatant on  _ his _ ship, so it made sense. But it still stung, because Zuko really wasn’t going to do anything. He’d promised. Besides, Uncle still needed this ship as his transportation, too. Zuko wouldn’t do anything to risk Uncle.

After squeezing into a corner between several crates in the lower storage area, Zuko eased his mask back and picked up a piece of seal jerky. 

“Are those sea prunes?”

Zuko almost yelped, which would have been  _ bad, _ because he was supposed to be a person who couldn’t speak. Instead, he stiffened, clutching the plate tightly and casting his gaze about the room in an effort to locate the speaker. A shadow lifted from further back in the room, and Zuko scowled. As much as he  _ wanted _ to chastise Uncle for startling him, it wasn’t a good idea. Instead, he extended the plate in Uncle’s direction. He didn’t really like the sea prunes anyway. 

Uncle was, like Zuko, dressed in water tribe furs now. He cut a different silhouette in the bulky fabric, but he didn’t seem bothered by the furs the way Zuko was. Maybe Uncle had worn furs the last time he’d come to the North? And that was such a strange thing to think about, the fact that Uncle had been here before, and lived to tell the tale. Uncle eased his way around several crates, reaching out and plucking the sea prunes from Zuko’s plate and popping one into his mouth. “What I wouldn’t give for a hot cup of seaweed tea to go with these,” he said mournfully.

Zuko sighed, and stood, pulling his mask down so it completely covered his face once more. He handed Uncle the plate before heading back to the kitchen. Seaweed tea tasted like hot seawater to  _ him, _ but he wasn’t going to tell Uncle that. Not that he could tell Uncle anything, being in disguise _. _ He resisted the urge to sigh as he reentered the kitchen.

“Hey Lee!” Katara greeted him as he walked in. Sokka and Aang were still there, eating their own meals. “Did you finish eating?”

Zuko considered the question. He’d come to get some water, since he couldn’t exactly make tea on a boat that rarely used fire for anything, but he’d thought maybe he could get a cup and Uncle could do his water-heating trick. He’d also considered just scooping some seawater into a teacup and seeing if Uncle could tell the difference between it and seaweed tea, but he also knew drinking seawater could make you sick and he wouldn’t do that to Uncle. He still wasn’t sure how to explain what he was doing in gesture, so he just shrugged and moved over to the water barrel, ladling some into a wooden cup (so the firebending trick was probably out - Uncle would just have to drink cold water) and turning back to the door.

“You could eat with us, you know,” Katara said. “I promise we won’t look.”

Zuko didn’t believe her, and there was too much at stake to take a risk like that over something as stupid as a meal with the Avatar. Instead, he shrugged again, and left the kitchen, hurrying back down to where he’d left Uncle with his plate.

* * *

Sleeping was the hardest part of the arrangement, and not just because of the hammocks. Zuko was slowly getting used to the rope nets and how they would spit you back out without rhyme or reason if you so much as shifted your weight the wrong way. He was getting used to all the snores and the people coming in and out as the night crew and day crew would change shifts before the sun had even risen. The problem was the paranoia. He still wasn’t sure that the Avatar would respect his wishes not to remove the mask, so every time he heard a noise, he would bolt awake. Three days into this, Zuko was starting to suffer from the constant interruptions, which is what he blamed for his stupid decision to  _ follow the Avatar _ when he saw the airbender leaving the bunk area wiping furiously at his eyes. 

The irony of chasing the Avatar around a wooden ship to see what was bothering him instead of trying to capture him was not lost on Zuko, but he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it arose. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong by following the Avatar around. At worst, he could be accused of information-gathering. Which was good. Because he needed as much information as possible, since his attempts to capture the Avatar thus far had been essentially useless. That’s why he followed the little monk from the bunkroom. The more he could learn about this kid and his water tribe posse, the easier it would be to capture the Avatar later. That’s why he was checking up on the kid. Information. Definitely nothing else. 

The Avatar was standing on the deck by himself, pressed right up against the bow of the ship and staring out over the ocean. The sea was calm, and the moon’s soft light shone down on them as Zuko crossed the deck to stand behind the Avatar. The airbender had his arms wrapped around his own torso like he was trying to warm himself up, but they were far enough from the North by now that it wasn’t all that cold, even at night. Zuko moved closer, not really sure what the Avatar was doing and curious to see what he was up to. The Avatar turned around, his face surprised as he caught sight of Zuko standing behind him. His eyes were wet. A few seconds ticked by before he sighed, and all the tension bled from his stance.

“Hey Lee,” Aang said softly, before turning back around to face the ocean. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Zuko moved to stand beside him, staring out over the ocean, too. He didn’t say anything, but he felt his answer was clear enough.

Fortunately, the airbender seemed to pick up on his response without issue, because he continued a moment later. “I keep having nightmares.”

Zuko angled his body so he was slightly facing Aang, trying to show his attentiveness through his posture. He wasn’t sure how else to encourage him to continue speaking. Fortunately, the airbender seemed more than willing to keep talking.

“You were there when it happened, right?” Aang asked, turning his head to look at Zuko. This was awkward enough, as Zuko couldn’t verbally respond, It was even more awkward because Zuko had no idea what the airbender was talking about. 

He cocked his head to the side, trying to emulate confusion. It must have worked, because Aang turned away, clarifying his statement a moment later as he gazed out over the soft waves lapping at the sides of the ship. “You were there for the Fire Nation’s attack - Zhao’s attack - on the Northern Water Tribe. When the Ocean Spirit… When  _ I… _ ” A small sob escaped the airbender’s throat and Zuko was sent into an immediate panic spiral.

Oh no, Spirits no, he didn’t know how to  _ deal _ with a crying monk. He wasn’t  _ good _ at that, he didn’t know what to do when someone cried! When Zuko cried it was usually somewhere private, and he hadn’t cried in a  _ very _ long time because it was embarrassing and it looked like maybe the Avatar was about to start crying here and now and that was  _ terrifying _ in a completely different way than the usual terror the Avatar inspired in Zuko, but it was actually even more terrifying because  _ Agni give him strength _ Zuko had no clue what to do. He couldn’t  _ punch _ him, could he? What did you do to comfort someone when they cried? He wasn’t Uncle, how was he supposed to know these things? 

“You know, it’s not the first time I’ve gone into the Avatar State,” the airbender said softly, his hands gripping the sides of the ship tightly as he spoke. “Every time it happens, people get hurt.”

He didn’t quite sound like he was going to cry anymore, and Zuko heaved a mental sigh of relief. Instead, he moved a few steps closer to the Avatar and tried to exude an air of comfort and curiosity. He wasn’t sure how effective he was, though, because the Avatar took a step away, hunching his shoulders and curling in on himself. “The first time it happened, I knocked Zuko off his ship. It wasn’t until later I realized I didn’t even know if he could swim with that armor. What if he’d landed in the water and drowned?” Aang still wouldn’t look at Zuko, staring out over the moonlit ocean, his face showing a tension that was totally unfamiliar to Zuko.

Thinking back on that fateful day, Zuko had to admit it had been, well, pretty rough. He’d finally found and captured the Avatar, only to have him break out in about two minutes flat and  _ completely _ trash his ship in the process.  _ Then _ the kid had gone all glowy, tossed several of his already-grumpy crew all around the deck, thrown Zuko  _ off _ the ship, and he’d only barely managed to grab the anchor chain to break his fall.  _ Then _ a two-ton bison had landed on his ship, the waterbender had frozen a few more of his crew in ice, and then as they made their escape they’d buried half his ship in an avalanche. He and his crew had needed to regroup and make sure everyone got warm again before pursuing the Avatar. He hadn’t realized that Aang had ever thought about that incident again. In a way, it was nice to know he regretted it. Zuko knew he certainly regretted a lot of decisions. Like leaving the Avatar conscious enough to airbend on his ship.

“The second time was when I was in the Southern Air Temple,” Aang continued, his voice well and truly choked this time. “I saw…  _ I saw…” _

Zuko swallowed hard.  _ Spirits, _ he knew  _ exactly _ what Aang had seen. The Air Temples had been the first place he’d looked for the long-lost Avatar. He reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on the Avatar’s shoulder. These people seemed to like touching, and Zuko felt obligated to at least try and reciprocate. He was  _ not _ expecting Aang to dive for him, wrap his wiry arms around him and bury his face in Zuko’s chest with a shudder. 

“I almost blew Sokka and Katara away,” he said, voice muffled by the furs Zuko was wearing. “I was so angry, and scared, and  _ sad, _ and I could have hurt them!” He sounded truly upset now, his voice tearing at Zuko in a way he could never have anticipated _. _ “And then, when I was in the Fire Nation Avatar Temple, I almost got everyone blown up in a volcano.”    
  
Right, Zuko remembered that. Zhao had been using his blockade to keep Zuko out and even though it wasn’t right to think bad thoughts about someone who was dead Zuko was still bitter about that. 

“And that’s not even the  _ worst _ thing I did, because _ -” _ Aang’s voice broke, and now he was  _ actively sobbing on Zuko’s chest, Agni preserve him he didn’t know what to do with a bawling Avatar - _ “Because then, during the invasion of the North, the Ocean Spirit _ used  _ me to take his revenge.”

Zuko felt his blood run cold. What did that  _ mean? _ Spirits could  _ use _ the Avatar? How did that even work? He felt his eyes widen as he stared down at the little kid, still clinging to him and crying. How did a spirit _ use _ someone, and how did you stop them?  _ Could _ you stop them?

Aang took a deep, shuddering breath, then spoke again, his voice still full of tears. “I don’t like being the Avatar, you know,” the small airbender’s face was still pressed into Zuko’s chest, his whole body shivering. “It’s so hard. And scary. And I’m afraid of losing myself. Of forgetting everything the monks taught me. If I forget, who else would remember? I’m the last one.”

Slowly, cautiously, Zuko shifted, wrapping his arms around the airbend - no, around Aang. The kid was shaking like a leaf. He wanted to hate the Avatar for what he’d done to the Navy. Wanted to hate Aang for causing so much grief and trouble in his personal life. Wanted to hate Aang for keeping him from his family, from his  _ home, _ for so many years. It was only now, as he had a sobbing airbender clutching onto him like a lifeline, that he was beginning to realize that the Fire Nation had done the same to him, but permanently. Aang had  _ no _ home,  _ no _ people,  _ no _ family, nothing. He was the very last of his people, and it felt as if Zuko was only now beginning to realize how much that knowledge must weigh on this little kid. This wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be the one comforting the Avatar, not when it was his people, his own  _ family _ that had given the orders to wipe out all the Air Nomads. Not just a ship, or even a Navy, but  _ every last one of them. _ Zuko was only now stopping to think about how horrible that would be, to wake up one morning only to discover everything and everyone he knew was just… gone. He felt sick.

Aang took a shuddering breath, lifting his head slightly to glance up at Zuko. “I don’t want to hurt people,” he said softly. “And I especially don’t want to kill people. But the Avatar is more than just me. And I don’t think I like  _ being _ that person. The Avatar.”

Zuko didn’t know what to say to that, so it was a good thing he wasn’t supposed to be able to speak. He lifted one hand and awkwardly patted Aang on the back, not sure how else to show his support.

A moment later, Aang pulled back, scrubbing at his eyes and sighing. “Thanks, Lee,” he said softly, then shot him a wavering smile. “You’re good at hugging.”

_ You should try one of Uncle’s hugs, _ Zuko thought absently,  _ He’s a lot better at this than me. _

“I think I can sleep now,” Aang said softly, turning away from the ocean and looking at the entrance to the lower decks. “You should try and get some sleep too.”

Zuko nodded, but didn’t move to join Aang when the kid headed back down below deck, ostensibly on his way to the bunkroom. He had a  _ lot _ to think about, and he had the feeling he wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know WHY this chapter took so long to make, but... it took a long time! I'm so glad I took my time with it though, because I was NOT expecting that last scene and I'm in love with it. Thanks to everyone for your patience and I hope to have the next chapter up sooner. :)


	9. Stealth and Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko finds his way into Onsenzakura. If only he had the money to buy goods and services...

The day they were planning to take Lee to Onsenzakura dawned bright and clear, and Sokka was looking forward to a quick detour. He loved being with the fellow water tribesmen, of course, but he was also still treated a bit like a kid. He’d done his ice dodging trials, so it felt a little insulting to still be treated in such a condescending way. It would be nice to get away for a few hours and feel like the adult of the group again. Well. At least the oldest, if not the adultiest. Was Lee older than Sokka? He acted like he might be. Sokka grimaced at the thought. It was his one claim to fame! What was he going to do if Lee started acting like the adult of the group?

Then he remembered that the guy had somehow made the decision to _sneak into an ice fortress_ after _stowing away on a Fire Navy ship_ during an _invasion,_ and decided that no one was going to be asking someone like _that_ for rational suggestions anytime soon. Reassured that his position as the ‘adultiest’ member of their group wasn’t in any current danger, Sokka took the time to look around and try to figure out where everyone had gone. They’d brought Appa up beside the ship so they could load their supplies onto the sky bison, and Katara and Aang had gone to the front of the ship to bid Master Pakku farewell. Lee had disappeared into the bowels of the ship, and Sokka still wasn’t sure _why_ Lee was so taken with the storage rooms, but honestly, when compared to all his other idiosyncrasies (like never taking off his mask), it was hardly at the top of Sokka’s list of weird things about Lee.

“Hey Sokka! You ready?” Aang chirped, bounding up to Sokka with a grin. “I’m excited to see this town!”

“Don’t be,” Sokka said, “We’re not going close enough to it for you to see anything anyway. Fire colony, remember?”

Aang frowned, his entire body seeming to deflate as his excitement vanished. He brightened again a moment later, though. He was always bouncing back, it was enough to make Sokka dizzy. “What if I wear a disguise?” Aang pleaded.

“What disguise? Are you going to wear a mask like Lee?” Sokka quipped.

“Sokka! Don’t be rude,” Katara chided, coming up from beside him. 

Sokka didn’t see how making an innocuous joke about a mask was _rude,_ but whatever. 

“Besides,” Katara added, “Aang needs to hide his tattoos, not his face.”

“Speaking of covered faces, is _no one_ suspicious as to _why_ someone like Lee feels the need to keep his face covered?” Sokka demanded. “I know we all agreed not to bother him about it, but it’s still suspicious, isn’t it?” Aang was shaking his head and staring at Sokka with big polar bear-puppy eyes, and Katara was giving him a dirty look. This did little to discourage Sokka now that he was on a roll. “Look, I’m sure there _could_ be a reasonable explanation, but it could just as easily be an _unreasonable_ explanation! How are you supposed to trust someone who never trusts you enough to show you their face? I know we agreed to help and all, I’m just saying that until this is over, _don’t_ let your guard down around him.”

Katara was now giving him a wide-eyed _shut up_ look, and Aang had deflated again. “Sokka!” Katara snapped, sounding as though she was trying to dismiss his _very real concerns._ “We can talk about this _later!”_

“No, this isn’t a _later_ sort of conversation, Katara!” Sokka threw his arms in the air. “We don’t know if we can trust him! We know almost _nothing_ about him! I know we agreed not to bother him, and I’m fine with that, but I also don’t think we need to get all chummy with him!”

“…Sokka…” Katara was now nearly as deflated as Aang, her eyes flicking from Sokka’s face to a space somewhere behind his left shoulder. 

In the same instant, Sokka heard a soft tapping on the wooden deck behind him, and he felt his own posture deflate in sudden understanding. “...he’s behind me, isn’t he?”

Aang and Katara exchanged awkward winces before nodding in unison. Sokka sighed, mentally bracing himself before turning around to see Lee, arms folded across his broad chest, blue and white mask perfectly catching the midmorning light in a way that almost made the wide grimace carved into it look more like a disappointed frown. Or maybe Sokka was projecting. Either way, Lee was tapping his foot on the deck, his posture stiff. Sokka wasn’t exactly good at reading him, but if he had to make a guess, he was probably irked that Sokka distrusted him.

That was fine. The other two had been quick to trust Jet, too. Sokka wasn’t about to make that mistake again.They may be temporary allies, but that didn’t mean that Sokka had to _completely trust_ the guy. “No hard feelings,” he said, “But we still don’t know you very well.”

Arms still folded, Lee shrugged stiffly, then tilted his head in the direction of Appa, as if to ask _Do you trust me with your bison?_ Or maybe he was trying to say _Let’s go,_ or maybe _The sun is in my eyes so I’m bending my face down a bit to block the sunlight_. It was hard to tell, actually. Sokka sighed. “Let’s go,” he said. “You have everything?”

Lee nodded, his movement awkward, like he wasn’t sure whether Sokka was going to suddenly turn on him. Which was fair, as he’d overheard a lot more than Sokka intended him to overhear. He would have called that sneaky, except that he hadn’t put much effort into hiding his presence, Sokka just hadn’t paid close enough attention to _realize_ that he’d arrived. 

“Okay then,” Sokka turned to the other two, who were still giving him deflated disappointed looks, “Let’s go.”

“I still think if I wear a disguise, we could spend an afternoon in Onsenzakura,” Aang grumbled.

Before Sokka could react, Lee whacked Aang against the back of his head.

“Ow!” Aang yelped, then frowned at Lee. “I’ll take that as a no?”

Lee nodded sharply, elbowing past the now fully-deflated airbender with a heavy sigh.

Sokka sighed too. He might be the adultiest of the group, but Lee was _definitely_ the grumpiest. A moment later, he realized that wasn’t quite right, either. Lee had somehow convinced Aang to listen to him even when Aang hadn’t been willing to agree with Sokka on the exact same issue! Sokka _was_ in danger of losing his position as the adultiest, after all! With a pained yelp, Sokka charged across the deck after Lee, shaking his fist in half-mockery, half serious threat. “You do _not_ get to be the adultiest person in this group, masky! That’s _my_ thing!”

Katara snorted from behind, calling after him. “Since when?”

Sokka tossed a scowl over his shoulder at her. “Since forever! Besides, if not me, who would _you_ say is the adultiest?”

“I don’t know,” Katara shot back, “but it’s probably not the guy who can’t even wash his own socks.”

“It’s not that I can’t,” Sokka protested, “they just don’t need it!”

The bickering continued until long after the Northern Water Tribe ship faded into the distance and the coastline of the Earth Kingdom grew closer.

* * *

By the time the sky bison finally landed on Earth Kingdom shore, Zuko was well and truly tired of hearing the siblings argue about who was the _adultiest_ member of the team. As far as he was concerned, the bison was the most reliable figure in their crew, and that was mainly because the rest of them were all ridiculous. Not that he could _tell_ any of them his thoughts on the matter, though he was half tempted to find a stick and start scrawling his opinions in the sand.

The Avatar was still trying to convince the Water Tribe siblings to let him go into Onsenzakura, which was both worrying and upsetting. Zuko didn’t _want_ the kid going anywhere _near_ Fire Nation territory, and not out of misplaced kindness or anything stupid like that, either. He was just worried that if some _other_ Fire Nation citizen managed to capture the Avatar again, Zuko was _not_ in good enough shape to pull off another Pohuai Stronghold breakout. His ribs were still tender from the explosion on his ship, and he hadn’t rested nearly long enough to recover from his injuries in the North Pole, either. Besides, Pohuai Stronghold probably increased security after the breakout, and Zuko had absolutely no desire to test and see how much better they were now. Plus, the Yu Yan archers had already given him _one_ concussion, and Zuko was in no hurry to give them the chance at another.

Zuko made a move to head out, but Aang called after him. “Hey Lee!”

Zuko turned slowly. 

“If you don’t find your family,” Aang said, “We’ll uh… wait for you here. Until evening. So if you want to stay with us a little bit longer, you can.”

…that was a tempting proposition, if only because it gave Zuko more time to really observe them and figure out their long-term goals. If he could find out where the Avatar was going to be later on, once he had a new ship and crew, then he’d have a much better chance of apprehending him. Slowly, he nodded in agreement. He still needed to get a message out to his father. Then, after that, he would decide what to do. Uncle wasn’t going to be back for a week or more, based on the time it would take for his raft to travel from the Water Tribe ship and reach the shore here. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the area in case Uncle ran into trouble, but it wasn’t like he would know if Uncle was in trouble from wherever he ended up staying in Onsenzakura, either.

He wasn’t going to make any promises, but he did nod to the Avatar to show that he’d heard the offer and would at least consider it. He couldn’t really give any more than that to the kid, so it would have to be enough.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Katara called after him. “If you’re ever near Omashu, stop by and say hi!”

Zuko waved a hand vaguely to show he’d heard and also signal his farewell. After that, he jogged off, heading in the direction of Onsenzakura. They’d brought the bison down a mile or two away from the docks, which made sense if you were trying to avoid Fire Nation colonials. If it were up to Zuko, he might have insisted they wait even further away, but his arguing skills were limited to dramatic gestures and the others weren’t exactly great at interpretation, so he’d let it be. 

It didn’t take him too long to reach the town, but he was nearly there when he realized his error - he was still wearing Water Tribe furs. They would stick out like a sore thumb in a Fire Nation colony. Zuko quickly diverted his route to the outskirts of town, looking for some house with the washing hung out to dry. Fortunately, it was a bright and sunny day. If it had been rainy, his likelihood of finding something to wear would have been practically nonexistent, but as it was quite nice out, he was able to find several options. He found some dark brown clothes, on the reddish side, but still dark enough to blend into shadows without much trouble. He didn’t have the right shoes, but he hoped that the hide boots wouldn’t be _too_ noticeable until he had time to find a new pair. 

He felt a little bad, taking someone’s clothes like this, and mentally noted whose house it was so he could drop by later and pay them back once his father sent a new ship with more supplies. He’d buy them something even better, these clothes were pretty itchy and stiff, and seemed like they were well on their way to wearing out in the elbows and knees. They would do for the moment, though. He found a small stand of trees with some fallen branches not too far from the house where he’d acquired his new clothes, and stashed his furs there before _finally_ removing the mask and wandering into town. He didn’t think anyone was likely to recognize him here, not with these horrible clothes and the weird creases on his face from where the mask had been sitting for _ages._ His first order of business was to find the town hawker and send a message to his father, so he scanned the skies, looking for any messenger birds flying overhead. Unfortunately, he couldn’t spot any, so he had to make do with the next best thing and approach a local merchant. 

There was an older gentleman dressed in Earth Kingdom greens. He had a gray goatee and wore a green turban on his head. He appeared to be hawking cabbages from his cart nearby, but business wasn’t exactly booming, so Zuko decided to approach him. “You there,” he said, trotting over, “Can you tell me where to find the local hawker?”

The older man clutched at one of his cabbages like he thought Zuko’s brusque approach might startle the vegetable in question. “I can’t, actually,” he said. “I just got into town today, so I don’t know where that is. There doesn’t seem to be much interest in cabbages, here. You wouldn’t happen to know of a better town to sell cabbages?”

Zuko scowled. “How am I supposed to know where to sell vegetables? Do I _look_ like a cabbage merchant?” He didn’t have time to discuss the local cabbage market, and even if he’d had the time, he wouldn’t have wanted to, anyway.

“Well, no, I suppose you don’t look like a merchant,” the man said weakly, his eyes scanning Zuko up and down. “Actually, you look like a street urchin. Can you even _afford_ a messenger hawk?”

It was a valid question, but Zuko took offense anyway. “That’s none of your business! If you can’t help me, I’ll go find someone else.” He whirled around to find the next nearest person who seemed approachable, and spotted a town guard standing on the corner. “Hey!” he called, stomping over, “Do you know where the hawker is?”

The guard looked Zuko up and down, lifting a solitary eyebrow, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly on his spear. “You sure you can afford a messenger hawk?” he asked.

By the holy flames of _Agni!_ Zuko hadn’t thought the clothes he’d grabbed were as bad as all _that._ Sure, they were worn and dull colored, but he didn’t look _that_ bad… did he? Suddenly, he had a terrible urge to find a mirror, or some other reflective surface. Typically, he avoided them like the plague, since he knew he looked terrible anyway. Now he was beginning to wonder if wearing the mask for too long had added _another_ deformity to his facial features, or if this town was just full of pompous people who cared too much about fashion. “I can afford the stupid messenger hawk, now tell me where to find the hawker!”

The guard leveled a glare in Zuko’s direction. “How about you try asking again, _nicely?”_

Zuko pressed his lips together in a failed attempt to quell his temper. “How about I ask again, and this time you _tell me what I want to know?”_ Zuko snarled, barely resisting the urge to conjure a handful of flames. He could feel tongues of fire flickering in his stomach, dancing on his breath, and he fought to quell his temper. The man was just doing his job. Being real judgemental about it, but he wasn’t doing anything _wrong,_ and Zuko should respect that. 

The guard scowled at Zuko, tipping his spear downward slightly, shifting his feet into a ready stance, like he was expecting Zuko to make an aggressive move at any moment. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he cautioned. 

“I just. Want to know. Where to find. The hawker,” Zuko ground out through gritted teeth, somewhat amazed that small licks of flame _hadn’t_ escaped his mouth as he spoke. 

Eyes narrowed, the guard straightened up, pointing toward the center of town. “Follow this street for a few minutes, take a right at the swordsmith’s and you’ll find the hawker just across from the rice merchant.”

Finally! Zuko spun on his heel to leave when he felt _a hand land on his shoulder._ Whirling, Zuko clamped one hand down on the wrist and _twisted,_ instinctively tugging the person who’d touched him into a half-grapple before he realized it was the guard and let go, taking a step back. “Watch it!” he growled.

The guard was giving him a _baffled_ look now. “I was just going to say the same to you,” he said, his eyes now _really_ giving Zuko a once over, and paying far less attention to the quality of his clothes this time around. “Not all of the town guards are as forgiving as me. Show some respect, or you might find yourself in trouble.”

Zuko bit his lip to resist the urge to inform this guard of _exactly_ who should be respecting whom in this particular situation, but he also didn’t exactly feel like explaining _why_ the exiled crown prince of the Fire Nation was out in some backwater hot spring resort town wearing awful clothes and potentially sporting a _second_ facial disfigurement. _(He really did need to find a mirror and make sure the mask hadn’t left a permanent mark or something.)_ Instead, Zuko nodded stiffly and marched off in the direction the guard had indicated, saying nothing.

“A thank you would have been nice,” the guard called after him. “You may want to consider that in the future!”

Zuko ignored him, already looking for the swordsmith. He patted the hilt of the dual dao slung over his back thoughtfully. Maybe he could get them sharpened while he was out and about. It would be a good use of time since he anticipated a long afternoon of haggling with the hawker to secure a delayed payment on the messenger hawk to his father.

* * *

Zuko stomped out of the hawker’s office, furious. He’d just wanted to send _one_ lousy bird, why didn’t the man understand that he would be paid _double_ later? It was _one bird!_ He stomped down the street, not really paying attention to where he was going until he wandered into something of a crowd.

It wasn’t especially surprising, considering that Onsenzakura was something of a tourist destination. The local hot springs were supposedly good for health, and their medicinal and restorative properties drew in a large number of annual visitors. Apparently this meant that other local attractions had sprung up around the resort town, including the act that the crowd had formed around, some kind of acrobatic performance. Zuko eyed the party for a minute, and was about to walk away when he heard one of the entertainers change his tune. 

“And now!” the announcer cried, throwing his arms wide, “we present to you, a challenge of dexterity and strength! Observe!” and he gestured dramatically in the direction of one of the entertainers, who took a sweeping bow, ensuring eyes were now on him. Once he had the crowd’s attention, he sprung into the air, balancing on a pole slung between two posts, crossing it with his arms spread wide. He wobbled once or twice, but it was _clearly_ dramatized, the man’s footing was far too sure for it to be a real struggle. Once he reached the edge, he hopped to another pole, this one set in the ground vertically. He hopped to another pole, taller than the first, and then a third which was higher still. At this point, the acrobat was higher than the nearest rooftops. This had to be a daily routine, because these poles must have taken awhile to set up, Zuko noted. A second later, he reconsidered his assessment, noting that if one of the troupe was an earthbebder, setting the poles in the ground would prove to be little trouble. Tucking that knowledge in the back of his mind for later consideration, Zuko watched the acrobat on the poles wobble once more (still staged) before leaping off the topmost pole to reach a set of poles with one set between them like a ring on a ladder. There were several hooks descending the poles on either side, and the man used his body weight to unhook the pole, catching it on the next set of hooks down, slowly ‘climbing’ down the poles until he reached the ground. 

“If you can manage to complete this course in reverse,” the announcer cried, lifting a bag that jingled with coins, “You win the entire pot! But if you fail, you forfeit the coin you pay to attempt the course.”

Zuko sighed gustily. Of _course_ there was a buy-in. The obstacle course itself didn’t look to be all that hard. Definitely easier than scuttling across the ceilings of Pohuai Stronghold or diving with turtle-seals. Of course the ladder part would be difficult, but his upper body strength was pretty good, and he had a lot of experience with balancing on narrow ledges. And he could use the money on offer. But he didn’t have any coins to buy in, so there was no point to it. He turned to walk away, disgusted. 

“How about you, young man?” the announcer called, pointing directly at Zuko.

Zuko paused, glancing at the announcer before pointing at himself awkwardly. “Who, me?”

“Yes! You! You look like a strong fellow, care to give this a try?” the man gestured to the course of random poles sticking from the ground with a sly grin. 

“I _would,_ but…” Zuko began awkwardly, only for the entertainer to cut him off.

“What’s the matter, boy, afraid you might fail?” His wide smile edged to a sneer. 

“No,” Zuko snapped, “I can finish your stupid course _blindfolded,_ the problem is I don’t have any money.”

The announcer blinked twice before he said, his voice tight with anticipation, “Did you say… _blindfolded?”_

Zuko swallowed. _Uncle is going to kill me if he finds out about this._ “Yeah. It’s not that hard.”

The announcer threw his head back and guffawed, but it was too showy to be a real laugh. “You really think you can do this with your eyes covered?”

“That’s what I said,” Zuko scowled, doubling down on his claim, his eyes roving over the course. “But I don’t have any money, so it doesn’t matter, I’ll just go-”

“I’ll pay the coin!” someone called from the crowd. “I want to see the kid try it blindfolded!”

“Me too! I’ll pay for him!” someone else called.

Before Zuko quite knew what was happening, about half a dozen people had surged forward, throwing their coins into the collection pouch the announcer was holding. He shook the coin purse, allowing the jingling sound of coins to ring through the air for a moment. “Well, boyo?” he said then, his wide grin still tainted with a hint of a smirk, “What say you now?”

Zuko sighed heavily and marched towards the front of the crowd. _Uncle’s_ definitely _going to scold me for this_ . “I don’t have a blindfold, either,” he told the entertainer, eyes still mapping the obstacle course. _Ten hooks on the ladder, the relative angle compared to the sun is just about straight on. It's a small jump, then maintain the same distance for the next two..._

“No blindfold? No problem,” one of the other acrobats said, dramatically flourishing a scarf she’d pulled from one sleeve. It was an impressive bit of sleight of hand.

Zuko took the scarf and had just lifted it to his face, when the announcer stopped him with a cautious “Ah, ah, ah - perhaps someone else should do the honors? We want to be sure it’s really covering your eyes.”

Shrugging, Zuko extended the scarf in the announcer’s direction. “So you want me to use the ladder thing,” he pointed, “to the poles,” he indicated the vertical poles, “to the balance beam,” he pointed again, “to the ground. That’s all I have to do?”

“That’s all, he says!” the announcer crowed to the rapt audience. “I should say so, young man. That’s all.”

Zuko stared closely at the structure, committing it to memory as best he could. One thing about sneaking around at night in a mask when half your face was burned was that he could rarely see well, if at all. He’d gotten pretty good at looking first, and then operating on instinct once he ended up in a tight spot. He didn’t see how this would be much different, except instead of wearing a mask with narrow eyeholes, he’d be wearing a blindfold with no eyeholes. He knew the angle of the sun in relation to the obstacles, he knew the distance between each point, now he just had to rely on memory (and maybe a little help from Agni) to complete the course.

The announcer slipped the scarf around Zuko’s head, and he waited until the man had tugged it tight against his face before speaking again. “Right,” he said, “Any other rules I should know about before I start?” He knew the general policy for entertainers was to have some sort of secret excuse for why they couldn’t give away the money, even if the participant somehow accomplished the challenge. He was trying to establish the ground rules in advance as best he could, so maybe the crowd would back him up if the acrobat team tried to stiff him. 

“None at all,” the announcer told him with a smarmy tone that told Zuko he _definitely_ expected him to fail, hopefully in hilarious fashion. Unfortunately for him, Zuko would not be meeting this expectation. Not if he could help it, anyway.

* * *

Akira had been running his troupe for nearly a year at this point, and he’d _never_ seen anything like the show this kid was putting on. He was a rough-looking one, with a topknot that had seen better days and ragged clothing that seemed days away from falling apart at the seams. Probably a down-and-out noble’s kid who’d fled his own colony in search of better boroughs, only to learn that the Earth Kingdom was still the Earth Kingdom, no matter which colony you ran to. Not that Akira cared about that, coin was coin to him, and while the kid had claimed to be penniless, quite a few people in the crowd had been interested in seeing what he could do. Who was Akira to refuse them? He hoped the kid could make it up a rung or two on the ladder challenge, at least, give them a bit of a show for their money. 

When the kid had let himself be blindfolded without a complaint, Akira had his first inkling that perhaps he hadn’t read the kid quite as well as he thought he had. Then the kid had turned and walked _unerringly_ through the tangled obstacle course, bent down, and grabbed the pole for the ladder without so much as running his fingers across the ground. The kid _knew_ where it was, and Akira felt his chest tighten. “Hold on,” he called, hurrying across the ground, _convinced_ something was up. “What did you do with the blindfold?”

“Nothing,” the kid replied in a sullen tone. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Akira said, tossing one of his winning smiles back over his shoulder at the crowd. “Just seems prudent to double-check this blindfold before you start…” He tugged at the scarf tied around the kid’s eyes and frowned. It was solid. He ducked forward, trying to spot any gaps where the kid could have seen through, but there was nothing. That didn’t seem possible. How had the kid navigated so easily if he couldn’t see the area?

Akira didn’t like this, but he’d agreed to it and he’d taken the audience’s money, so he had to let the show go on. “Continue!” he cried, stepping back with a flourish.

With a mild grunt, the kid _leapt up_ nearly half his own height and _slammed_ the pole into place, already nearly one-third of the way up the ladder. He swung his body a little, curling his arms, swung once, twice, then hefted his body up, hooking the pole up and over, locking it into the next set of hooks. 

It took him far less time than Akira expected to reach the top of the hook-ladder. But surely he would fail at the next point. The vertical poles were a significant distance from the ladder, and -

The kid hooked his feet up and over the pole, _standing_ on the top of the ladder, turning to face the sun. His face was screwed up in concentration as he turned, paused, and adjusted his body so he was _facing the first pole._ Akira felt his mouth drop open as the kid _leaped_ from the ladder and landed atop the pole with such ease that for a moment he forgot that such a feat should have been _impossible._ A moment later, the kid hopped to the next pole, and the next one after that. 

As the kid neared the balance beam, Akira suddenly remembered he was meant to be the announcer narrating the skills being demonstrated high above the anxious crowd. “Look at him go!” he boomed, hoping that perhaps the sudden volume would startle the kid, possibly make him lose his footing. Akira glanced down at the small coin purse in his hand. He emptied it periodically throughout the day, but it was still pretty full at the moment, and he didn’t like the idea of handing it over _one bit._ “He’s just got the balance beam and the dismount to go, what an incredible performance from -” He paused, scowling then. “Hey kid, what’s your name?”

The kid hopped to the balance beam, practically strolled across it, and hopped to the ground before turning to face Akira. “The name’s… er, Lee.”

All right, obviously a false name, but Akira wasn’t going to call him on it. After all, his own name wasn’t really Akira, so he had no stones to throw from his glass house. “There you have it, everyone!” Akira cried, turning to the audience and throwing his arms wide. “The incredible _Lee,_ completed the test of strength and dexterity while blindfolded! Do we have another taker to challenge this young man for the victory prize?” He asked, lifting the small purse and shaking it temptingly.

The audience members exchanged glances, but none seemed willing to try. Pity. Sometimes he could get a taker, and then pocket a few extra coins when he divvied up the winnings. “Very well then. Lee, if you wouldn’t mind returning the blindfold?”

“I can’t really untie it from behind my head,” the young man said, “Do you mind?”

Akira resisted the urge to sigh. He’d been momentarily tempted to offer the lad a position in his troupe, until the young man had reminded him of his poor attitude. “Not at all,” he said, passing off the purse to one of the acrobats, Kenji, with a pointed wink. He was quick on the uptake, and Akira had no doubt the man would do his best to lighten the purse without being noticed. It wouldn’t do for Akira’s troupe to look stingy by trying to cheat the boy out of his winnings, but his people needed to eat, too. This seemed a fair compromise to Akira. He took his time unlacing the blindfold from around the boy’s eyes, still not quite sure _how_ the young man had managed the obstacle course without his sight. 

“Well, young man,” Akira said, turning to retrieve the now substantially lighter purse from Kenji, “My compliments to you. You were not exaggerating your claims in the slightest.”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, accepting the purse, “I wasn’t exaggerating.” The look of relief in his eyes hinted that perhaps he _had_ exaggerated. But that was no matter to Akira. It had been a spectacle, and they had gathered even more of a crowd because of it. Now was the time to capitalize on that.

“And there he goes, coins in hand! Who will be our next challenger? Does anyone else dare attempt the reverse course? No?” Akira’s eyes tracked the kid as he slipped through the crowd. Although he’d never seen the kid before in his life, he could almost _swear_ that there was something familiar about him. After a moment, Akira shrugged off the idea. He didn’t have time to worry about familiar-seeming kids with oddly specific skills at the moment - he needed to make back the money he’d lost to Lee, the weird scruffy kid who could navigate an obstacle course while blindfolded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Iroh: I sense... Zuko is doing something foolhardy...  
> Master Pakku: So he's just having a normal day, then?
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! Haha I hope the last part makes sense, I'm very bad at describing obstacle courses. Just imagine Zuko going through one of those "ninja" challenges while blindfolded, lol. (He's very lucky he didn't fall and break his neck, tbh. He's too proud to back down even when he really should.)


End file.
